A Light in the Shadows
by atouchofstarquality
Summary: Little Christine convinces Raoul to sneak out with her during a summer night to go to a fantastic gypsy fair. The gypsies of the fair capture the both of them, stripping them of everything they have, and locking them in a rusty cage with a young man who is simply known as: The Living Corpse.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **So...my first Phantom fic...how about that?

Alright, so this is mostly Leroux based with a bit of Kay but not much.

Christine is eight at the start and Raoul is nine. I'm adjusting Erik's age a little bit so it will work with the story. Erik is going to be seventeen at the start. I plan for this to span a few years, so each character will become older.

This takes place during the summer of the "red scarf incident" and Christine and Raoul are not only playmates but they have become very good friends. Erik is living with the gypsies at the time.  
And little Christine and Raoul will just so happen to cross paths with a young man know as "The Living Corpse"

The story will later go into to romance...now it is just too early.

There you have it! I hope you enjoy the first chapter and possibly give me your feedback?

**Disclaimer: **I do not own The Phantom of the Opera

* * *

Little Christine Daaé ran up to the tallest tree next to the de Chagny family's summer home. She blew away the blond curls that blew in her face as she ran. She grasped the lowest branch of the tree, pulling herself up. Christine sniffed the night air as she began climbing up to the highest window of the home. She took a pebble out of her sleeve and threw it lightly at the window, only tapping it.

Before Christine knew it, the window opened. A boy who was not much older than Christine opened the window. His blue eyes were tired, his hair was fair and a bit of a mess. He let out a yawn, "Christine?"

She smiled brightly, "Get dressed, Raoul!"

Raoul, clearly just had woken up from a deep sleep. He was ever so confused, "Wha?" He yawned again.

"Get dressed!" She climbed through the window and into Raoul's room, "We're going to the fair!"

Raoul raised his eyebrows in confusion, "But it's nighttime," he fixed his hair with his hands, "Daddy Daaé said he would take us on Friday. It's not Friday, Christine."

"I do not want to wait until Friday!" She pouted, "Please! We can go by ourselves. We are almost ten years old, that's practically grown up! You must come with me!"

Raoul looked a bit nervous. He stuttered a bit, "B-But there are g-gypsies! Philippe t-told me that they're d-dangerous!"

Christine rolled her eyes, "Has Philippe even seen a gypsy before?"

Raoul shrugged, "I-I don't know…"

"Then we do not know if they're dangerous!" Christine exclaimed, "I bet they aren't even dangerous at all."

"If you say so, Christine, " Raoul then asked, "I'll go with you. But I need to get dressed. Can you close your eyes?"

Christine nodded, covering her eyes with both hands as Raoul got on his clothes. She did not look at all. She did not even peek once.

"You can look now," Raoul alerted her, "I'm just putting on my shoes."

Christine took her hands off of her eyes. She saw Raoul struggling to tie his shoes, "Oh Raoul, you always take so long," she knelt down and took one of his laces, "I'll do it."

Raoul whined, "Christine, I can tie my own shoes."

Christine giggled, "Sure you can…there we go!" The strings were tied neatly in a bow. She adjusted the locket around her neck and grabbed Raoul's hand, pulling him out the window.

The children were so used to climbing down this tree, they had been doing it almost everyday for the entire summer. Their grips did not slip and their feet did not slide. They climbed down the tree with ease.

"I hear that there are animals of all sorts!" Christine beamed, pulling Raoul along, "And there are dancers too! Oh, I bet they are lovely!"

Raoul was slipping in the grass, "Slow down! I don't want to fall!"

Christine let out a chuckle, "I'm sorry, Raoul. I'm just so excited!"

Raoul showed a small grin, "I guess I'm excited too. I've actually never been to a fair before."

"Then you are in for a treat!" She ran with Raoul on a cobblestone path and onto the road, "There is music and dancing and food and all sorts of people!" Christine whispered, "One time I was at a fair with Daddy and I saw a woman with a beard!"

"Sounds like my governess," said Raoul, letting out a small chuckle.

Christine and Raoul now were laughing hysterically. Now that Christine thought about it, the bearded lady did look a lot like Raoul's governess.

Raoul adjusted the sleeves on his jacket, "How faraway is the fair?"

"Not too far," Christine answered, "Daddy and I walked past it while heading back from the market."

Raoul nodded, "I hope the gypsies aren't dangerous."

"They probably aren't, Raoul. Stop being silly."

"You know, Philippe has been teaching me," Raoul puffed out his chest, "If I had a saber or something I could protect us both if they were dangerous."

Christine started laughing, "I've seen you with a saber."

He crossed his arms and huffed, "I'm getting better!"

"Of course you are, Raoul," Christine messed with his hair, "Of course you are."

"Ack! Christine! My hair!"

"I think it looks better that way," Christine pointed out, "It makes you look all rough and tough."

"But I am rough and tough!"

"As a butterfly," Christine then pointed out to the lights in the distance, "I see it! I see it! Come on!"

The children ran as fast as they could towards the lights of the fair. They already knew that it was going to be a night that they would never forget.

* * *

"Next time you scream at the customers, " a gypsy man shouted with anger, "I will whip you into next week! Do you understand, corpse?"

Erik hid his face in his hands. He spoke in a whisper, "Yes."

The gypsy held the rusty cage door open with his hand, "Yes…what?"

Erik clenched his teeth, "Yes master."

The cage door was slammed shut and a dark tarp was put over it. Erik was used to the darkness. He actually liked the dark better than the light. That way no one could see him.

And he did not scream on purpose. When there are children throwing things at you…what else is your reaction? A boisterous laugh?

Erik felt around for his mask at the floor of his cage. He picked it up and put it over his face. His "mask" was actually a burlap sack with two eye holes. He had made it after the mask his mother made him finally broke. Even though Erik was alone, he felt more comfortable with his face hidden. He did not know exactly why, but he just did.

Outside of his cage he heard the laughter of children and the loving words sweethearts. How Erik longed for one. He saw plenty of boys his age walk around the fairgrounds with their ladylove. He wanted a ladylove. He wanted any love that he could take.

Erik touched a tender bruise on his shoulder blade. It stung like a wasp, so he quickly took his bony finger off.

Now was his time to rest. His next "show" was in an hour. He definitely was not looking forward to it. Maybe it would be better if he could keep his mask on and just sing to them. He had been told that he had a nice singing voice, but Erik knew that his master would not allow it. What the people wanted was a freak show, not an artist.

Erik curled up in a ball at the corner of his cage, holding his knees for a little bit of warmth. At least he knew that he could be safe inside of his dreams.

* * *

**A/N: **What did you think? Did you like it? Love it? Hate it?

Leave a review and let me know :)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Whoa! An update!

First, I would like to thank the fabulous first reviewers of this story: **LadyLuly, newbornphanatic, RoseRed95, Everyonedeserveslove, The Phantom Of The Labyrinth, PhantomFan01, Phanatic01, EriksAngeDeLaMusic, and megumisakura**

Also, I would like to thank everyone who favorited and followed! You guys are awesome!

I really wanted to continue this story, so I decided to write a new chapter. I have plans for this fic...great plans...

This fic will probably also containe a bit of ALW!Phantom. Not much, but a teensy weensy little bit later on. Other than that it's mostly Leroux with some Kay.

I now present chapter two! I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Phantom of the Opera.

* * *

"The Living Corpse?" Christine gasped as she read the sign. She turned to her friend, "Raoul-"

Raoul shook his head and tried pulling Christine away from the tent, he seemed frightened, "N-No," he stuttered, "I d-don't want to see another dead body."

Christine placed her hand atop of Raoul's, "The sign says _living, _not _dead_."

"I-It costs money, Christine! We haven't any money on us!" Raoul pointed out, "So we cannot see it. I am terribly sorry."

Christine rolled her eyes, "You're acting like a baby."

Raoul pouted, "Am not!"

"So, you're afraid of a little gypsy trick?" asked she, "I've seen them all. They're not real, Raoul."

Raoul crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows, "Then why do you want to see it so badly?"

She shrugged, "I find it amusing."

"Christine…" Raoul sighed, "Sometimes I wonder why I'm friends with you."

Christine hugged him from behind and whispered, "Just follow my lead."

The little boy let out a groan and reluctantly took Christine's hand. She always had this charm on him, persuading him to do many things that he would never do. That was how their friendship started earlier that summer, after all.

There was a brawny gypsy man standing in front of the scarlet tent. His skin was tanned and his hair was like ink. Quite a few of his teeth appeared to be missing. He seemed to be preoccupied with picking dirt out of his fingernails, which made it very easy for Christine and Raoul to dash past him and go into the tent.

The children were now surrounded by the chortles and squeals of many. The majority were children around their age, with some teenagers thrown in on the side. There were only a few adults, who must have been some of the others' guardians.

Raoul held Christine's hand tight; he did not want to get lost in the masses. A girl's pig tail brushed up against his face, forcing him to let out a sneeze.

"God bless you, Raoul!" Christine exclaimed as soon as she heard the sneeze.

"Thank you," Raoul wiped his nose on his sleeve, "What is this living corpse thing s'posed to look like anyways?"

Before Christine could open her mouth, an older boy with gaps in his grin opened his, "Only the most ungodly thing you could ever feast your eyes on!"

"How ungodly?" asked Christine, "What do you mean?"

"It is so hideous that you may actually vomit!" he stuck out his tongue to show disgust, "It looks like death, and smells like it too." He reached in his pocket and pulled out some stones, handing them to Christine and Raoul.

Raoul then asked, "What are these for?"

"You'll see," the older boy smirked, tossing a pebble up and down in his hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" a voice boomed. It was the gypsy man from outside, "Prepare to face your worst nightmare! Ones with weak stomachs, I suggest you shut your eyes! The Living Corpse is not a pleasant sight!" he began to pull off the red tarp, "Some even say that he is the spawn of Satan himself!" Now that the tarp was off, the gypsy man reached his arm into the cage. He pulled an extremely bony arm with skin much like yellowed parchment.

Christine heard a whisper, _"Please, master! Please, I beg of you!"_

The gypsy man gritted his teeth, "Your audience awaits."

Skin and bone was what Christine saw. The monster quickly hid his cadaverous face in his hands before Christine could even glimpse.

With brute force, the gypsy man pulled the hands away from the corpse's face, revealing something utterly grotesque.

Amber eyes sunken in so far that they appeared to be surrounded by black. A deep hole where a nose should have been, but wasn't. Thin, dry lips that cracked and bled. Sharp cheek bones that could poke an eye out. Wisps of ink black hair scattered across the top of its head.

Christine let out a gasp. If this was a gypsy trick, then it was put on very well.

Raoul squeezed Christine's hand tightly, dropping the pebbles that the boy gave him.

Screams were heard.

"Put that demon back in its cage!"

"Shield your eyes!"

"Don't touch it!"

The older boy in front of the children caught the rock he was tossing. Without a second thought he pelted it at the monster.

The corpse screamed, putting its hand over the now newly bruised area.

Others followed the boy's lead, hurling anything they could pick up, laughing as they watched it fall to the floor in agony.

Raoul tugged Christine's sleeve, "We can't-I can't be in here, Christine!"

Christine could not take her eyes off of the corpse. It frightened her, but she could not look away. She dropped the stones onto the ground like Raoul had done earlier.

Raoul backed away, pulling Christine along with him.

"Come on!" he whispered, then bumping into something at the end of the tent.

A gruff voice spoke, "I didn't see you two pay the fee!"

Christine and Raoul turned their heads, looking up at the brute.

"We are very sorry, Monsieur," Raoul whimpered, "We haven't any money on us and-"

He paid no attention, "Do you know what we do to thieves here?"

Christine stomped her foot, "We did not steal anything!"

The gypsy yanked the two by their collars, pulling them out of the tent, "You stole our services."

"That was no service!" Christine yelled, "You are forcing that poor boy to do this with your gypsy tricks! People are hurting him!"

"That is no trick, girl," he lifted her by the neck, "That is actually a monster from hell."

"Put her down!" Raoul watched Christine struggle in the oaf's grasp, "You put her down!"

He lifted Raoul the same way he lifted Christine, "Or what?"

Raoul squirmed, "My brother is the Comte de Chagny! He can have you arrested on the spot!"

"Sure he is, brat," he spat, "He isn't here to save you now, is he?" The children were no being yanked into another tent. The mammoth threw them onto the dirt.

"My, my, my," a tall, gangly hag approached the children, "What do we have here?"

"Caught these little thieves sneaking into the corpse's tent."

The hag ran her fingers threw Christine's golden locks, "What pretty hair," she looked up at the brute, "We could use this."

"You're not going to cut it off!" Christine hollered, "Are you?"

"You are ours now, child," her voice was low, "I will do with it what I want." She suddenly yanked the locket off of Christine's neck.

"That was my mother's!"

The hag smirked, "It isn't any more," she nodded her head to the gypsy man, "The boy's shirt looks like it will fit Mander. Take it off while I cut off her hair."

"Don't you touch Christine!" Raoul yelped as he struggled, "Don't you touch her!" While the gypsy held his arm, Raoul forced a mighty kick into his shin.

"Insolent boy!" the barbarian snapped. Without a second thought, he slapped Raoul across the face, forcing him on the ground.

The hag held a knife to Christine's hair, "Raoul!" she wailed. Her once beautiful hair was now on the dirt floor. The hag was now trying to remove her dress.

"Stop fidgeting!" barked the hag as she unbuttoned down Christine's back.

Raoul slow got up from the ground, his lip was bleeding, "Christine…" he moaned.

The hag fully removed Christine's dress, leaving her only in her undergarments. She pushed the girl back onto the dirt.

Christine sounded frightened, "What are you going to do with us?"

"You are ours now," the hag was stern, "You will work for us, you will stay with us, you will listen to us."

The brute cackled, "You two brats will stay with the corpse since that was what you wanted."

"And what if we refuse?" Christine asked.

"I will beat you until your world is black."

* * *

They were gone. The crowds were gone. His tormentors were gone.

Erik felt relieved. He was now left to his solitude once again.

There was something odd about today's "performance." Not that the usual abusive crowds were odd, but there was something.

A girl. One girl. She did not scream, nor did she throw. She just stared at him. There was a little boy tugging at her. His master had taken away the girl, he remembered. What had he done to her?

Erik did not care. She was a normal little girl going to see a freak show, nothing more. There usually never is anything more. There would probably never be anything more.

He put his sack over his head and shifted to the corner of his cage, his usual resting place.

The lock on his cage began to jingle.

"_Monsieur," _Erik heard a whimper, _"You're hurting him!"_

He heard his master bark, _"One more word out of you and I will beat you both out of your senses!"_

There was not another word outside of his cage after yet.

The tarp was removed from the cage. Erik saw his master clutching the arms of two filthy children. A blonde boy with a blackened eye and a fat lip, and a girl with golden hair just as short as the boy's. She was in undergarments and there was blood spread across her cheek.

It was the girl from before.

"You've got yourself some new roommates, corpse," his master spit on the ground, "little thieves like you were."

Erik said nothing as his master threw the children into the cage. He watched as they slammed into the bars. The tarp was pulled back over the cage. It was pitch dark to the girl, but Erik could see. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

"Raoul?" the girl was feeling around the cage, "Raoul?"

The blonde boy was not moving. He laid against the age bars motionless.

"He's unconscious," Erik spoke very softly, by accident, "He will most likely wake tomorrow morning."

"What?" the girl whipped her head around in the darkness, "Who said that?"

Erik said nothing.

"This is the corpse's cage," asked she, "Isn't it?"

Erik said nothing.

"I-I'm not afraid of you," she told him, "I just want you to know."

Reluctantly, Erik asked, "Why?"

"You have not hurt me or my friend," she was quiet, "If you truly were evil, like they said, both of us would already be dead, right?"

"I'm a monster, girl, not a murderer,"

The girl sighed, "And I am a thief," she started sniffling, "Everything is my fault."

A crying little girl was something Erik saw very often, but this was different. She was not crying because of him, she was crying because of herself.

Erik did not know what to do. What should he say? Should he even say anything?

The little girl wiped her nose on her bare arm, "I'm acting like a baby," she sniffed, "You will not hurt me or my friend, will you?"

"I have no reason to."

"What is your name?" asked the whimpering little girl, "My name is Christine."

"M-My name?"

"You do have a name, don't you?" she cocked her head like a confused puppy, "Or is 'corpse' really your name?"

"Of course I have a name!" Erik snapped at her. He saw the fear in her eyes, "I-I…please don't start crying again."

Christine wiped the tears from her eyes.

It had been so long since Erik had said his name out loud. He softly spoke, "Erik. My name is Erik."

"Erik," whispered Christine, "Erik."

"What are you doing?"

"Saying your name," she answered, "I like how it sounds."

"Really?"

"I like doing that when I learn a new name," she told him, "You should try it with mine."

"I will not be playing any childish games, girl," he grumbled.

"Okay," she reached out her hand to touch his, but she quickly pulled it back. Erik's hand was ice-cold, "You're freezing!"

Erik was confused, "Why did you touch me?"

"It was a greeting," replied she, "Your hands are colder than ice!" Christine breathed on her own hands and rubbed them together. She then placed them on top of Erik's.

"What are you doing?" He did not move his hand. The feeling of another human against his skin felt…it felt nice. He felt very odd inside, he did not know what to make of this.

"Warming you," she rubbed her hands against his, "You are very cold."

"You are very strange."

"Strange is not always bad," Christine remarked, "That's what my daddy says. Strange is sometimes better," she then added, "I can stop if you want."

"N-No," Erik did not want her to stop, "It's…it's alright…Christine."

Christine. It sounded nice when he said it.

"Christine."

* * *

Did you like it? Love it? Hate it?

Leave a review and let me know! :D

Thanks for reading and stay tuned!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Hello readers! A new chapter! Yay!

I have a bit of headcanons going into this: Raoul suffers from an anxiety disorder. Time and time again he experiences panic attacks. More frequently after his parents died. And Philippe, being the big brother that he is, watches out for Raoul, taking on the role of a father figure per say. Also, I'm using Gustave as Christine's father's name. I contemplated between Charles and Gustave...but I went with Gustave. I don't know why...I just did.

Erik is so confused with his feelings. Never has anyone treated him so...kind?

Anyways, I would like to thank the reviewers from the previous chapter: **Everyonedeserveslove, gingerbluez, FunkyBubble14, FantomPhan33, newbornphanatic, megumisakura, Ailovec, LadyLuly, and MysteriousWaffle**

You all are fabulous! As are the ones who followed and favorited :)

Here is chapter three!

**Disclaimer: **I really don't own Phantom. I swear.

* * *

Philippe tiptoed quietly down the hall, making sure he would not wake his sisters or their governess. For a boy of seventeen, he was very light on his feet.

The young Comte was up this late because he felt like he needed to check on his little brother, as he did every night. Ever since their parents died those four months ago, Raoul would often have fits of panic out of absolutely nowhere. Philippe did not know exactly what triggered them, but he did care about the well-being of his youngest and only brother. He felt that a nine year old should not have to go through that, at least not alone.

He slowly pushed open Raoul's bedroom door and entered. He made sure not to make a single creak as he stepped on the hard wood floor. Philippe did not want to wake Raoul; he only wanted to check on him.

Philippe carefully peeled the blanket away from the bed. Raoul was not there.

"Raoul?" Philippe questioned aloud.

No answer.

"Raoul," Philippe crossed his arms and groaned, "I know you are in here. Please come out."

No answer.

Philippe was getting a bit worried, "Raoul?" he rushed over to the closet, swinging open the door. It contained clothing and toys, but no Raoul.

The teenager then felt a slight breeze. The window…it was wide open. No…Raoul could not have.

Philippe ran into the hall, "Madame Desrochers!" he knocked on the governess's bedroom door, "Madame Desrochers!"

The door creaked open. A plump and busty grey haired woman stood. She did not look amused in the slightest way, "It is the dead of night, Philippe," her eyes slowly blinked, crust falling on her nightdress, "What in the name of our lord are you doing up at this hour?"

"I went in to check on Raoul, as I do every night," he tried to explain himself, "He's not in his room…the window was open!"

"Calm-"

Before Madame Desrochers could finish her sentence she was interrupted by the shouts of a teenage girl.

"What is all this ruckus!?" Arielle marched down the hallway in her nightdress. For a slight girl of fifteen, the way she stepped sounded like a stampede. A girl of twelve, youngest sister Emily tagged behind.

"Raoul is not in his bedroom!" exclaimed their eldest brother, "His window was open! I think he may have escaped!"

Arielle sighed, "Philippe, you talk about Raoul as if he is an escaped convict. Why on earth would Raoul climb out of his window?"

"I don't know!" Philippe was shouting, "We have to find him," he turned to Madame Desrochers, "You search the house," then to Arielle, "You, the courtyard," then to Emily, "You, the garden."

Emily then questioned, "Where are you going to look?"

"Monsieur Daaé's cottage," answered Philippe as he walked towards the staircase, "Raoul has spent much of his time there, and I would not be surprised if that was where he was."

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he dashed to the front door, swinging it open. He was now outside. The dirt was cold on his bare feet as he ran down the road. The cottage was not too far from the de Chagny summer home.

Philippe approached the old wooden door, slamming his fist upon it, "Monsieur Daaé! Monsieur Daaé!" he bellowed, continuously knocking.

A tired Monsieur Daaé answered the door. He let out a yawn and rubbed his eyes with his fists. He slurred, "Monsieur le Comte?"

"I am very sorry for disturbing you at this late hour, Monsieur,"" Philippe spoke apologetically, "But I cannot find my brother. He was not in his room, so I suspected-"

"He would be here?" Monsieur Daaé finished Philippe's sentence, his thick Swedish accent poking through.

Philippe nodded, "He adores your little Christine very much. I just would really like to know if he is safe. It has been a very hard year for our family-"

"Taking on the role of a parent is very hard, Monsieur le Comte," he pushed back his unruly hair, "Especially when you are still a child yourself."

"Please call me Philippe," the teenager responded, "I prefer my name over that silly title any day, Monsieur Daaé."

The elder nodded, his lazy eye looking in the opposite direction, "Then I must be Gustave to you. I shall check my daughter's room."

"Thank you, Mons- I mean Gustave," Philippe politely nodded, still standing at the door. Philippe was a very modest lad, never wanting to overstay his welcome. He watched as Monsieur Daaé disappeared from his eyesight.

His fingers were nervously tapping against the door's side. He prayed that Raoul was here.

"_Christine?" _he heard Monsieur Daaé cry, _"Christine!?"_

"Monsieur Daaé?" asked Philippe, "Is everything alright?"

"She is not there!" he ran back to the door, "I shall check around the house."

"I shall help!" Philippe assured him, "Raoul? Christine?"

* * *

Every inch of Raoul hurt, from his head down to his toes. His head especially, though. It was pounding.

The boy slowly sat up against the rusty metal bars which scraped his bare back. His eyes slowly fluttered open as he let out a soft groan, "Christine?"

Christine was on the opposite end of the…cage? He was in a cage! They were in a cage! What had even happened last night? Raoul could not remember. And Christine's head lay on a stomach. The stomach of a boy with yellowed skin, with a burlap sack over his head…

"WAH!" Raoul yelped, falling back against the bars, slicing his skin.

The child's cry woke both Christine and who Raoul guessed had to be the corpse from last night.

Christine shot up, "Raoul?" and without any warning, she latched her arms around her friend, "Oh, Raoul! Thank goodness! I was so frightened!"

Raoul could not stop staring at the corpse. His heart was racing. Was he going to strike?

"I am so sorry!" Christine sniffed, burying her head in Raoul's neck, "Forgive me, Raoul! Please forgive me!"

"C-Corpse," whispered Raoul, his eyes widened.

"He will not hurt us, Raoul," Christine told him, "He is not a killer, he said so himself. His name is Erik."

"Erik?"

Christine turned her head towards the corpse, "Don't be shy, Erik. This is Raoul. He is my best friend."

"Raoul," Erik softly muttered.

The cage felt a bit shaky, "We're moving!" Raoul sounded frightened, "Why are we moving? Where are we going?"

"This is a gypsy fair," Erik answered, "We tend to travel."

Raoul shook his head, 'N-No! We can't be!" He was shaking.

"We are."

The blonde was hyperventilating, "We'll be too far! Philippe, my sisters…your father, Christine!" there were tears in his eyes, "We can't- I can't lose them! No! No!"

"Raoul?" Christine sounded concerned, "Are you alright?"

"No, Christine!" he slammed his fist on the cage floor, "I can't be in here! I-I can't! Make them stop! Make them turn around!" The boy was being drenched with his own sweat as he spoke.

"They'll find us, Raoul!" Christine tried assuring him, "I promise you!"

"No they won't!" Raoul grabbed onto the bars of the cage, "They will never find us! We are doomed, Christine!"

She had never seen her friend act like this before, "Raoul?"

"He needs to breathe," Erik piped up, "He is in a state of panic. He needs to breathe."

"I can't breathe!" Raoul turned towards Erik, "I can't! I can't!"

"Hold your breath, boy," Erik advised, "Breathe in and breathe out."

Raoul did as Erik said, taking in a deep breath, holding it, and slowly letting it out. He continuously did it until he fell back against the bars, exhausted.

"I'm sorry," Raoul sniffled, "I-I…"

"It's okay, Raoul," Christine crawled over to her friend, placing a kiss on his forehead, "I'm frightened too." She looked up at Erik, "Thank you."

"Do not thank me," he warned, "I am not one to thank."

"Yes you are," Christine contradicted, "You helped me through the night, you calmed Raoul. Thank you."

"Yes," Raoul sighed, "Thank you."

"There is one thing I do not understand," Erik told the two children.

"And what is that?" inquired Christine.

"You both are frightened, but it is not because of me."

"You didn't hurt us," Raoul was now calming down, "I was frightened of you, but now I am not."

Christine nodded in agreement.

"I-I…" Erik was speechless, "But my face…"

"My brother Philippe told me not to judge books by their covers," said Raoul, "And I guess that goes for people too."

Christine put one hand on Erik's, the other on Raoul's and softly sighed.

"GAH!" Raoul screeched, feeling pain in his back.

"What is it?" Christine sounded alarmed.

Raoul bent over, revealing the lashes that ran down his back. He remembered the gypsy man…and his whip, "Last night," he moaned, "the gypsy man-AH!"

Erik untied the scarf from around his waist, dipping it in the water bucket that the gypsies left him, "This will soothe the burn," he leaned over, placing it down on the child's back.

"AH!" Raoul cried, the cold shocking him.

"You must be patient, boy."

"It burns," Raoul bit his lip, "It burns!"

"You do not deserve to be beaten like this," Erik muttered under his breath, "neither of you…"

Christine squeezed Raoul's hand, "Just listen to Erik, he seems to know how to make you better."

"You are too young…too pure…"

Raoul gulped, holding in his wails. He grabbed Erik's hand, squeezing it along with Christine's.

Erik flinched a bit, but then squeezed back. It was clear that he was not used to this.

"I will protect you both," he spoke harshly, "I will not let them hurt you."

* * *

**A/N: **Like it? Love it? Hate it?

Leave a review and let me know :)

Thanks for reading and stay tuned!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Hello readers! I have decided to update!

So this chapter takes place two days after the last.

I would like to thank the fabulous reviewers of the previous chapter: **Phantom Phan Phorever, Phanatic01, MysteriousWaffle, Ailovec, chaz1997, tobi's a bad boy, The Scarlet Nightingale, newbornphanatic, chivafighter, Everyonedeserveslove, and noname**

You guys are fabulous! As are the ones who favorited and followed.

Here's chapter four!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or The First Sorrow of a Child

* * *

"Boy!" the gypsy man snapped at Raoul, yanking his delicate arm and pulling him out of the cage. The child's arm scraped against the rusted bars of the cage as he fell to the dirt ground.

Raoul let out a small squeal as he held back tears of pain. He then looked back at the cage. Erik held Christine back, telling her to stay quiet. He obviously knew what was best, so she obeyed.

The behemoth gritted his teeth, "You have a name, boy?"

"R-Raoul," he stammered, "R-Raoul de Chagny."

"Well, Rah-ool," the gypsy man clearly mispronounced his name, "That's a fancy name you got there. A pampered brat, am I right?"

Raoul said nothing. Nervous sweat dripped from his forehead.

"How old are you? Six? Seven?"

"Nine."

"Nine?" he let out a laugh, "You oughtta be put to work! We ain't gonna let you go to waste, boy."

"W-What do y-you w-want me t-to do?"

"I'll give you something easy, just 'cause I'm nice," the brute spit on the ground, "Tend to the animals. Clean them up. If anyone wants a look at them you charge them five centemes."

Raoul nodded.

"And you better not run, you'll never live to see the morning son if you do," the gypsy man peered inside the cage, eyeing Christine, "And you…"

"M-Me?" she gulped.

"We'll have Madame take care of you," he glanced at Erik, "And you, you have a show in an hour."

* * *

"Here," the giant threw a heavy broom at Raoul, making him lose his balance, "You sweep the shit."

Raoul held the broom a bit lopsided and nodded. Never in a million years had he thought he would be doing this. He was a vicomte, not a stable boy.

The gypsy spit on the ground, "Make sure Chauncey doesn't nip at the kids, he's a feisty one."

Raoul raised his eyebrows, "Chauncey?"

The man pointed his fat finger to a scraggly goat tied the side of an empty cage. He snipped and snapped, staring at Raoul with his bloodthirsty eyes.

"Just whack him on the nose," the gypsy man yanked Christine's arm, "Come on!"

Raoul looked around him. A pig was sniffing the dirt, trying to dig up only god knows what. The goats tied to the cage bleated and whined, nipping at the ropes that held them. He saw children with their parents, holding hands tightly and giggling and laughing. Raoul missed his parents. He missed his mother's lullabies and his father's warnings. But he knew it just hurt too much to think about them, they were gone. He missed his brother too. Philippe was the one who would always kiss his scraped knees or laugh at his silly jokes or answer his never ending questions. His big brother was his world. Raoul did not know how he could manage without him.

"I wanna feed the goats, Mama!" a little girl, much younger than Raoul, squealed excitedly. Her fiery curls bounced as she jumped.

The girl's mother held her nose after taking a whiff, "They're filthy, darling. Wouldn't you rather-"

"I wanna feed the goats!"

The woman looked a bit repulsed when she laid her eyes on Raoul, for the boy was absolutely filthy. Covered in dirt, bruises, and scrapes. Her voice was mousy, "How much?"

"F-Five centemes," the boy stuttered, digging his fingernails into the wood of the broom.

The woman handed Raoul a coin.

Raoul pointed to a bucket of oats which sat near the goats, "Th-Thank you, Madame."

The woman watched as her little girl laughed ad giggled as the goats ate out of her tiny hand.

Raoul sighed longingly as he swept. He wondered what they did with Christine. He prayed that she was alright.

He gagged every time he looked at what he was sweeping.

* * *

Madame was a saggy old woman with a mole on her face that was the size of the moon. Her eyes were too small in proportion to her face and she always spit when she spoke.

Christine learned that she was supposed to listen to Madame. If not, her fingers seemed to be what was at stake.

"Adolpho seems to tell me that you are a little thief," Madame spit, "You're right lucky, girl. In my day you would lose a finger!" she showed Christine her left hand. Three fingers and two nubs.

Christine nervously nodded.

Madame pointed to the other gypsy women in the tent with her remaining fingers, "We cook for everyone. Even little thieves like you. Now, pass me my carving knife."

The girl nodded, picking the large knife up off of the old table, handing it to Madame.

Madame gripped the knife tightly in her beefy hand, slicing off the head of a goose. Blood splattered onto Madame's dress, as well as on Christine's nose.

Christine shivered and shut her eyes.

"Only a little blood, girl," Madame continued chopping, "You have a name?"

"Christine Daaé," she spoke very softly.

Madame blew a strand of grey hair out of her face, "You a Swede?"

Christine nodded.

"Its voice is hypnotizin'! I swear!" Christine overheard one woman gossip to another.

"Probably its mating call," one cackled, "the thing ain't human!"

"What are they talking about?" Christine asked Madame.

The old woman groaned, "Bunch a hens, they are. Gossipin' 'bout that goddamn corpse."

"Erik?"

"Huh?"

"His name is Erik," Christine answered her, "he told me himself."

"I don't care what his name his," Madame told the girl, "Evil little thing, Throwin' his voice around like he's some goddamn ghost! Think he can scare Madame? No sir!"

"Throw his voice around?"

"Ventriloquism or somethin'! Learned from some magician who traveled with us a while back. Jus' watched him for days, copyin' his tricks. Downright creepy if you ask me."

Erik was not creepy. Well, at least to Christine he wasn't. These old women did not have any idea about what they were even saying, but Christine stayed silent. She particularly liked her fingers.

* * *

Christine carried a wooden bowl in her hands. Some of the god awful soup Madame had made that Christine was able to scavenge. It was not much, but she was desperate for a meal. She was sure that Raoul was too.

Directly back to the cage at dark was what the gypsy man had told her. Christine obeyed. She did not want to have to go through the horror of his wrath again.

"Christine!" she heard a voice and quickly turned her head. It was Raoul, slowly limping behind her.

"Oh, Raoul! What happened?"

"The demon goat got me!" he exclaimed, "It tried to eat me, Christine!" Blood dripped down Raoul's leg and onto his foot.

"Everything at this fair is demonic, Raoul," Christine held the soup bowl tight, not spilling a drop, "I'm afraid my fingers are going to get chopped off!"

"I fear that the gypsy man is going to take out his whip again."

"If we obey we'll be alright, right?" asked Christine, "They won't harm us if we do as they say."

"I hope."

Christine sighed, "I got food for us. It smells horrible, but we can hold our noses."

"ACK!" the children heard a screech, "I'm sorry! I didn't-"

_WHIP!_

"Please!" the voice cried, "It was involuntary! I promise it won't happen again!"

"Six years you've been traveling with us!" I gruffer voice snapped, "It's high time you learned!

"Master…" the voice grew weak, "Please…"

"You're damn well lucky I haven't sold you off! There are many more people who are crueler than I! I'm a saint in comparison!"

"Please…"

Christine dropped the soup onto the dirt. She began to run toward the screams, Raoul trailed behind.

That was when she saw Erik lying on the cold hard ground. He was covered in lashes. His trousers were at his knees. There was blood. So much blood. And standing above him was the gypsy man with a whip in hand.

The gypsy man cackled, "This is what happens when you disobey me," he glared at Christine, "You wouldn't want to be in the poor little corpse's place, would you?" he lifted Erik by his bony arm, hurling him in the cage.

There were tears in her eyes. All she could do was shake her head.

"You brats get in the cage," the monster warned.

Christine and Raoul obeyed, scrambling into the cage.

The gypsy man locked the cage and put on top its usual tarp before leaving the scene.

'Oh, Erik," Christine choked, "What did he do to you?"

Erik couldn't answer, all he could do was cough.

"Erik?" Raoul sniffed, "Please speak. We are scared. We are very scared."

Christine ran her small fingers through Erik's inky strands of hair, "Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing. Like a butterfly she flew about in the gold of the sun. In her golden curls she the wore the crown of spring,"

Raoul continued, "and her gaze was the like the heavens, so bright blue and clear."

A tear dripped down her cheek, "She wheedled her mother and was true to her doll. She looked at her clothes and her red shoes, but above them all she loved a little bird, which her father had captured on the snow last Christmas."

"It sat by the window, freezing, in the winter's cold and wind and pleadingly it looked into the warm room within," whispered Raoul, "Then her father put out grain to tempt it to come in and Lotte gently put it towards her warming cheek."

"And Lotte was so happy, she alone was allowed to care for and to comfort the little guest from the forest," she softly kissed Erik's limp hand, "She brought the bird its food and kissed it to sleep, soon it learned to eat from her red lips."

Raoul scooted over to Christine, placing one hand in her hand and the other hand in Erik's, "It knew her voice and her light step and thanked its friend with many a lively song," he sighed, "At the end it sat sad and silent in its cage. It heard spring calling from the green forest."

She put Erik's cold hand on her hot cheek, "Then it spread it wings and wanted to fly away; but little Lotte smiled - alas, she understood it not," tears fell onto Erik's hand, "She closed the cage securely, she gave it water and seed; but the bird only wanted freedom, if it was not to die."

Raoul blubbered, "One morning she ran early to the bird with food and laughed loudly on the way and was so delighted; but, when she came to the cage, then she forgot her song. The dear bird lay outstretched on the bottom stiff and long."

"She took it out carefully and kissed it so tenderly; but it remained cold and lifeless, - it was not a joke," she whimpered, trying to comfort Erik as much as she could. For the story she told is one that would always bring her comfort when her father told it, "Its head sank back, in the eye death lay, horrified she let it fall and stared silently at it."

"And, as she stood there silent, she became so strange before her clear eyes a fog grew. The sweet childhood blush faded from her cheeks and slowly from her heart a dark pain rose," Raoul was solemn, "She could not know, what this pain was; but sorrow had written its first rune in her heart and marked its image deep on her soft features. No longer did it disappear with her last tear."

"She thought of her mother, but not as lightly as before, and thus new worlds dawned behind the black veil of grief," Christine leaned over and kissed Erik's forehead, "Like a look at the sea from the dark fortress of the coast, so the possibilities of life are revealed by the child's first sorrow."

* * *

**A/N: **Like it? Love it? Hate it?

Leave a review and let me know! :)

Thanks for reading!

Stay tuned!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Ooooh an update!

In this chapter we have quite a bit of bonding between Erik and Raoul. They are both just so precious I can't even. We also have some Christine as well, do not fret!

I would like to thank the lovely readers who reviewed the previous chapter: **FantomPhan33, Phanatic01, Toriana, KittyPimms, Ailovec, megumisakura, Everyonedeserveslove, and chaz1997**

I also would like to thank the people who followed and favorited.

Here is the next chapter!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Phantom of the Opera

* * *

_"I want— I want two...kisses. One now and one to save."_

Tremendous pain shot threw Erik's entire body. The cool breeze stung his skin like wasps. Was he even alive? He did not know. In his state, he felt that he would welcome death like an old friend.

He slowly opened his eyes, seeing the ceiling of his cage. The summer air blew swiftly across his bare face.

"Erik?" he heard a mousy whisper, which was then followed by a sigh of relief, "Erik!"

Erik blinked a few times. He pushed himself against the bars of the cage, trying to sit upright, but collapsed back onto the floor.

"Erik!" the voice sounded worried. Erik felt small hands on his ribs, pushing him back up.

Blue eyes met gold. A face came into focus. Milky white skin and rosy cheeks. An absolute mess of sandy hair.

"Raoul?" Erik realized who it was. He quickly covered his face with his hands, "Do not look at me!" he snapped at the boy, "Where is my mask?!"

Raoul looked frightened. He slowly scooted away from Erik, "I-I don't know. The g-gypsy m-man took it." Erik saw tears forming in the child's eyes. Had he scared Raoul? Was it his face, or was it his tone?

"Please do not cry," Erik begged, not removing his hands from his face, "Please do not cry."

"W-Why did you y-yell at me?" whimpered Raoul, "W-What did I d-do wrong?"

"Nothing," Erik's voice was much calmer, "You did nothing wrong."

"You can take your hands off of your face," Raoul told him, "It doesn't scare me anymore. I've been seeing you without it for the past two days."

"What?" Erik slowly lifted his hands off of his faces.

"You were asleep for two days. Sometimes you would wake up, me and Christine would try to feed you and give you water, but you would just moan and fall back down. Me and Christine have been tending to you, trying to make you better."

"You are telling me that I have been slipping in and out of consciousness for two whole days?"

Raoul nodded, "We were scared that you wouldn't wake up."

"Why were you scared?"

Raoul slowly put his hand atop of Erik's, "You are our friend."

Erik quickly pulled his hand away from Raoul's, "I am your friend?"

This was all new to him. People touching him. People treating him kindly. Was this all some dream and would he soon open his eyes and be returned to the nightmare of reality?

"I think you are," said Raoul, "Am I your friend?"

Erik had never had a friend before, a human friend actually. He had Sasha when he was a child, but she was only a dog. Was this little boy a friend to Erik? This little boy had watched over him and cared for him.

"Yes," Erik was quiet, "You are a friend to me."

Raoul beamed, "I've never really had any friends before, other than Christine."

"Really?" Erik could not believe that. Raoul was a normal boy with a very normal face. How could he not have any friends?

Raoul nodded, "When my Mama and Papa were…when they were a-a," he stumbled across a word, "a-a-a"

Erik was confused, "What are you trying to say, boy?"

"Ali-ali-ah," Erik could see Raoul's expression change quickly. He could tell that he was buried in his thoughts. Buried very deep.

Erik snapped his finger in front of Raoul's face, "Raoul? Snap out of it, Raoul!"

Tears were trailing down the boy's pink cheeks. He was hyperventilating, almost screaming. Had Erik triggered something?

Without even thinking, Erik put his arms around the boy and stroked his back. This seemed to be the thing that people did to comfort others, right?

"Shh," Erik tried to soothe him, "Shh…"

"I'm sorry," whispered Raoul, "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

Raoul sniffled, looking up at Erik, "You probably think I should be locked up."

"Well, you actually are locked up," Erik motioned to the lock on the cage door.

The boy let out a small giggle.

Erik then asked, "What did you mean by that?"

"Locked up," repeated Raoul, "In an institution."

"Raoul, why do you think that?"

"My governess," Raoul explained, "she thinks I'm mad! I overheard her gossiping at church. She thinks I ought to be put in a madhouse!"

"First of all," Erik's voice sounded soothing, "I do not think you should be put in a psychiatric institution. Second, obviously if you were mad you would be in one, right? And right now you are in a cage with a freak of nature, which is far from a psychiatric institution, more or less."

"You are not a freak, Erik," said Raoul, "You are a very nice person."

Erik tried to hide his small grin as he continued to stroke Raoul's back.

"Whenever I had one of my fits, Philippe would do what you are doing now."

"Philippe?" that name sounded familiar to Erik.

"My older brother. He's the Comte de Chagny."

This caught Erik by surprise, "Your older brother is a Comte?"

"Mmhmm," Raoul answered, then changing the subject, "Why did the gypsy man hurt you so bad?"

"You are too young to understand."

"I'm almost ten!" Raoul sat up and crossed his arms.

"Too young."

Raoul pouted.

Erik noticed the gash on Raoul's ankle, "What happened?"

Raoul kept his arms crossed, "You're too old to understand."

"The demon goat bit you."

"Yes," sighed the child, "Three times! Every time I sweep near him he attacks me!"

"That goat got me once."

"How?"

The teenager's voice was dark, "Last year I tried to escape, but the goat caught me. I used to have privileges here. I trained with a magician, had my own tent! The gypsies took them away when they found me, also got a beating that could rival my previous one."

"My brother will find us, Erik!" Raoul tried to be hopeful, "he will take us away from here! He will have the evil gypsies' heads! You can stay with us! We have plenty of room!"

"I do not think that a Comte like a brother would take too kindly to someone like me."

"Why do you think that?"

"Past experiences."

"Well, Philippe is different," said Raoul.

"Sure," Erik had sarcasm in his tone.

Raoul then asked, "Do you have a family?"

Erik had a mother. A mother that loathed him, that feared him. A mother who despised him, that hated his existence.

"No," was Erik's answer, "I do not."

"All the more reason for you to live with us," Raoul smiled.

* * *

Christine wiped the sweat off of her brow. She was absolutely exhausted. Madame had worked her very hard today. She let out a sigh as she walked with the gypsy man back to the cage.

The gypsy man swung the keys back and forth as he pulled Christine along.

Neither of them spoke a word to each other.

The gypsy man pulled the tarp off of the cage and inserted the key into the lock, opening the door and shoving Christine inside.

"Ow," she let out a weak groan.

The gypsy man locked the cage and left the premises.

"Christine," a soft melodious voice spoke.

Christine slowly sat up. She saw Raoul fast asleep, slumped on Erik's side. And Erik, he was wide awake. He then quickly covered his face with his hands out of impulse.

Christine grinned, "You're awake!" she wrapped his arms around him, embracing him in a hug, "I was so scared. I'm so happy that you're awake!" Christine moved Erik's hands away from his face and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

And that was when Erik practically collapsed.

"Erik?" Christine sounded concerned. She saw tears in his eyes.

He could barely speak, "Y-You y-you y-you," he was sounding like Raoul, "kissed me?"

"You're acting funny," Christine told him, "It was just a kiss. I kiss people all the time. Raoul, Daddy…"

"You kissed me," Erik breathed, "No one has ever kissed me before."

"What about your mother or father?" Christine asked, "You must have a mother and father, or must have had them. They must have kissed you goodnight at some point."

"Never," Erik was still in shock.

"Would you like another," the little girl asked.

"Is that even allowed?"

Christine giggled, "Of course it is! I have plenty of kisses, Erik," she leaned down, kissing his forehead again.

Erik was crying, "M-May I have two more?"

Christine raised her eyebrows, "Why two?"

"One for now and one to save."

She placed another kiss on his forehead, "Okay."

* * *

**A/N:** Like it? Love it? Hate it?

Leave a review and let me know :)

Thanks for reading!

Stay tuned!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Update! Yay!

This chapter is much darker than the previous ones. Like it goes into stuff and there is very angry Erik like the beginning of the crazy Erik we know and love. It takes place about a month after the previous chapter. Erik has become much more comfortable around Christine and Raoul. Erik's master is a very very bad man and he is evil and stupid and I'm glad I don't have to write him anymore I mean what.

I would like to thank the reviewers from the previous chapter:** Everyonedeserveslove, Ailovec, Toriana, yapqin, helikesitheymikey, Phanatic01, FantomPhan33, PhantomPhan01, Funkybubble14, newbornphanatic, noname, Phantom Phan Phorever, Indythewolf, tobi's a bad boy, and chaz1997.**

This chapter escalates pretty darn quick.

Here is the sixth chapter!

**Disclaimer:** i do not own the Phantom of the Opera.

* * *

_One Month Later_

"Monsieur le Comte," the officer's voice was very quiet, "It has been a month, there is nothing more that we can do."

Philippe slammed his fist on the officer's desk, "What do you mean!? My baby brother is missing!"

"We have sent out search parties across the country and have had no luck in finding the young Vicomte."

"You must search harder then!" Philippe snapped, "I will offer rewards…anything! I just want my brother home safe!"

"Monsieur le Comte," the officer grew agitated, "It is more likely that the boy is dead. If he was indeed missing, we would have found him by now."

"Raoul is not dead!" Philippe was screaming now. He felt hot tears on his cheeks, "He is very much alive and we will find him!"

"There is not much-"

Philippe cut off the officer, his nostrils flared, "I am le Comte de Chagny! You will listen to me and you will find him!" he slowly sank down into the chair parked in front of the desk and put his head in his hands.

"Monsieur-"

"It's his tenth birthday, you know?" much like a child, Philippe wiped his tears on his sleeve, "We were going to have a nice party, nothing too big."

"We'll try once more," the officer sighed, "Send out one more search. If we cannot find him then there is nothing more that we can do."

"I would sell my soul for my brother's safety," said Philippe, "I will not give up that easily."

* * *

"No!" Christine held Erik's arm tightly, "I won't let you!"

Erik pulled away from Christine's grasp, "I have no choice, you have no say."

"They hurt you!" Christine cried, "Everyday you are covered in bruises and blood and I can't take it!"

"Christine, you are overreacting."

Christine huffed and turned to her best friend, "Am I overreacting, Raoul?"

Raoul shook his head, "I think you are being quite reasonable."

"I am touched that you both care for my wellbeing," said Erik, "but trust me. If I do not go out I will suffer an even more horrible fate. I am the main attraction here, after all."

"Why are they so cruel to you?" asked Christine.

Erik pointed to his unmasked face, "Last I checked I was not a pretty sight."

"You're much lovelier than that fat old gypsy man," stated Raoul.

"As flattering as that sounds, Raoul, I must disagree."

"I hear you sing sometimes," Christine told Erik, "your voice is very lovely."

Erik looked a bit shocked and grew a bit defensive, "When have you heard me sing?"

"When In take the meals to the other tents I pass by our cage," she said, "Oh, Erik! If you would sing then no one would even pay attention to your face!"

"I highly doubt that," said he, "I advise that you two stay quiet. My master should be here at any moment."

The three heard heavy footsteps outside of the cage.

"Speak of the devil," Erik muttered under his breath.

The tarp was lifted off of the cage and the key twisted and turned inside the rusty lock. The gypsy man had sweat on his brow and anger in his eye.

Erik slowly got up, sensing that he had another show to do.

"Get back!" his master barked, "I'm here for blondie!"

"both of us are blonde," said Raoul in a matter-of-fact tone.

"The girl!" he stared at Christine lustfully.

"It is night," Christine told him, "I have already done my work with Madame today."

The gypsy man seized her arm and smiled a toothy grin, "You're coming with me to my tent tonight, girl."

Christine obeyed, not wanting to be scolded by the brute.

Erik and Raoul watched as the two went out of eyesight.

"Erik?" questioned Raoul, "What's going on? Why did he take Christine?"

Erik thought for a moment. He knew the look that his master had in his eyes only a moment ago. It was the same look Erik had received just a month ago before his terrible beating. His master was going to…he was going to…

"No!" Erik screamed out loud. He could not let this happen to someone young and pure like Christine.

"What!?" Raoul sounded alarmed, "What is it!?"

Erik shook the bars of the cage, "We have to get out of here, Raoul! We have to get Christine away from my master!"

"Escape is impossible, you said so yourself!"

"Raoul," Erik put his hands on the boy's shoulders, "Forget what I said. We must get Christine away from him."

"W-Why?"

"My master is a man capable of doing terrible things," he told Raoul, "he is going to do something absolutely horrifying to Christine if we do not get her away from him."

Raoul gasped, "How are we going to get out?"

"I haven't figured that out yet," he glanced at the lock, "The lock is old and rusty. If we had enough force hitting against the lock it would easily break."

"What about the bucket?"

"That might work, dump the water out."

Raoul took the bucket and held it upside-down. Water was spilling all over the floor of the cage. He handed the bucket to Erik.

Erik started to bang the side of the bucket against the lock. He did that continuously until the lock started cracking and breaking. It dropped onto the grass.

"Come on," Erik motioned to Raoul as he pushed the door open, "We must be very quiet."

Raoul nodded and took Erik's hand as they escaped the cage.

"Do not let go of my hand," he whispered to Raoul, "We must be hasty."

"The gypsies will see us," Raoul whispered back. He began to hyperventilate, "They'll see us…and they'll catch us!"

"Raoul, I need you to hold your breath and count to ten, then slowly let it out."

Raoul did as he said and held his breath for ten seconds, then let it out.

"We must stay behind the tents, out of sight," explained Erik, "My master's tent is red and gold. When we get there, you take Christine and head straight to the forest. Do you understand?"

"What about you?"

"I will catch up," he whispered, "You must trust me."

"I do."

Each tent they passed went by like a flash of lightning to them. They were determined to get Christine, determined to escape from the camp.

* * *

The gypsy man began to untie the dirt covered skirt from around Christine's waist.

"What are you doing? Why are you untying my skirt?" Christine asked the monster, confused about what was going on.

He pushed her down against the table.

"Ow!" Christine yelped, "You're hurting me!"

The gypsy man did not respond as he pulled the skirt down around the child's ankles.

"No!" he heard a different voice yell. Cold, bony fingers latched onto his bicep, "Touch her and so help me god-"

The brute pushed Christine onto the ground and whipped his head around. Christine watched from the ground as she crawled away. It was Erik.

"How did you get out?!" the gypsy man snapped, gripping Erik's skeletal arm.

"You really should invest in new locks," the teenager snarled. His master pushed against the table. Splinters dug into his bare back.

"Erik!" Christine gasped.

"Raoul," Erik's voice strained, "Take Christine! Take her and run!"

"But-"

"Do as I say!"

Raoul nodded and took Christine's hand.

"We can't leave him!" Christine whispered as the children watched the evil gypsy strike their friend.

"Go!" Erik screamed, "Go now!"

The children did as he said and fled the tent.

"You can do whatever you want to me," Erik growled, "But lay a finger on either of those children and I will not stay silent."

"They're children," his master taunted him, reaching his big hands around Erik's neck, "Insolent, little pests. Do you really think that they actually care for you?"

Erik jabbed his heel into the gypsy's stomach, knocking him to the ground.

"You'll die on your own."

"Don't be so sure," Erik eyed the blade on the table.

"You have no one to go to. No family, no one would take in a monster like you."

Without a thought, Erik picked the dagger up off of the table, "They are my family."

His master started nervously sweating, "It would be best for everyone if you put that down."

"Why?" Erik had a wild look in his golden eyes, "So you can lock me back up like an animal? So you can molest an innocent child?"

"Y-You wouldn't d-do it!" he stuttered, "You wouldn't k-kill your master! I took you in! I took care of you!"

"If by 'taking care' you mean excessively beating and locking in a cage for six years the yes, you have taken excellent care of me," his voice was dark, "You treat me worse than dirt and I think of you much lower," he knelt down to his level, "I am my own master. My name is not corpse, not demon childe, nor monster. It is Erik, but you do not deserve to call me by my name."

And right then and there, Erik plunged the dagger into his former master's heart. He felt hot tears run down his cheeks as he did the deed.

Erik placed his fingers on the gypsy's wrist. There was no pulse. He had killed him.

He had killed a man.

He gasped for a moment, realizing what he had done. Erik quickly pulled a burlap sack off of the table. He dug his rigid fingernails through the sides and created holes. He slipped it over his head.

Erik headed straight for the forest. He did not stop running.

As he entered the dark forest he stopped and grabbed onto the trunk of a tree. His nails scraped the bark as he sunk to the ground. His tears wet the burlap sack which covered his face. He changed position and sat on the ground, hiding his head in his knees.

He heard a soft whisper, "Erik?"

Erik lifted his head. Christine and Raoul stood above him. They were absolutely filthy. Their faces were wet with tears. The look so very frightened.

He slowly got back up on his feet. He had to forget about what just happened. He had to forget about what he just did.

"We have to get as far away from here as we can," Erik told them.

"Where will we go?" asked Christine as she wiped her eyes.

"I don't know," was his answer. He took their hands and kissed the top of Raoul's and then Christine's hair, "but as long as you stay with me then no one will hurt you. I will guard you both with my life. Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

* * *

**A/N:** wow that escalated quickly.

Like it? Love it? Hate it?

Leave a review and let me know :)

Thanks for reading!

Stay tuned!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** WOO! An update!

I've rewritten this chapter a couple of times. It took me a bit to decide the setting for this chapter. I was contemplating whether to go straight to the opera house or show the little adventures along the way. I chose the little adventures.

In this chapter we meet Nadir Khan, chief of police to the Shah of Persia. We also fast forward two years. Christine is ten, Raoul is eleven, and Erik is nineteen. They are street performers, well Erik is. Earning enough money for a hot meal every once in a while.

This chapter is also kind of filler. It is necessary in order to have the chapter that will come after this.

I would like to thank the wonderful reviewers from the previous chapter: **Toriana, Ailovec, Everyonedeserveslove, Eponine Sparrow, Phantom Phan Phorever, megumisakura, Phanatic01, FantomPhan33, newbornphanatic, PhantomFan01, Guest, helikesitheymikey, and StarCatcher1858**

We also have some adorableness between Erik and Christine because let's face it they are adorable.

Here is the new chapter!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Phantom of the Opera.

* * *

_Two Years later_

Nadir Khan huffed as he strutted down the busy streets of Lyon. It had been years since he had made a foreign trip for the Shah; he had forgotten how cold France was in early March. He had left his coat in the carriage, a stupid decision that was.

Nadir was on a search for a man who went by the name of the Masked Magician. The Shah demanded that he be found, for he was getting bored with the entertainment at the palace. The Shah was such a child; Nadir was a chief of police, not his personal manservant. But, Nadir did need the money; he had to take care of Reza, after all.

This "Masked Magician" was apparently a man of many trades, from what Nadir had heard. Not only a magician, but a musician and he even had some influence in design. The Shah had a mighty need; the Shah always got what he wanted.

"Come one, come all!" Nadir heard a voice shout. A young boy ran down the street. His hair was the color of sand and he looked much like a street urchin. He approached Nadir.

Nadir then asked, "Can I help you?"

"Monsieur, follow me and prepare to be amazed!" The boy tugged on Nadir's sleeve.

"I'd rather not," said the Persian, "I have important business to attend to."

"You look like a traveler," the boy told him, following him, "Where are you from? What is your business?"

"Are you always in other people's affairs?"

"Only when I need to be," the boy smirked, "What's your name?"

He rolled his eyes, "Nadir Khan."

"That's a funny name," the boy giggled, "Where are you from?"

"Persia," Nadir had really hoped the boy would leave him be if he answered, "I am here on important business pertaining the Shah."

"What kind of important business?"

"Finding an entertainer-"

The boy grabbed Nadir's hand, "An entertainer you want, Monsieur? I know exactly where one is!" he dragged Nadir along.

"What are you doing?!" Nadir was alarmed.

"Taking you to see the Masked Magician, of course!" the boy exclaimed, "That will be a franc in advanced, Monsieur," he held out his hand.

"Why must I give you the money?"

"I am his concierge," said the boy.

Nadir sighed in disbelief, "You cannot possibly be over the age of ten."

The boy groaned, "I'm almost twelve, actually!"

"Where is this 'Masked Magician', then?"

"I'll take you to him if you give me the franc."

"Fine," Nadir pulled out his wallet and took out a few coins and handed them to the boy.

"Thank you, Monsieur," the boy bowed, "Raoul de Chagny, at your service."

Nadir followed Raoul, hoping that the boy knew what he was doing, "What are your ties with this 'Masked Magician'?"

"I live with him," answered Raoul, "What are your ties with the Shah?"

"I am the chief of police."

"Then why are you searching for an entertainer?"

"It is a very long and very complicated story, child," sighed Nadir.

"You sound like a complicated man."

"That I am."

Raoul grabbed Nadir's wrist, "Come along, Monsieur Khan! Or you will miss your chance!"

* * *

"Ugh," Erik groaned as he scratched his face under the mask he had made from Christine's old skirt, "I think I may be getting a rash."

"Then we shall get you a new mask," said Christine, with hair now down past her shoulders.

"No, no," Erik responded, "You and Raoul need to eat. This mask is fine."

Christine pushed Erik's "magic" trunk against the wall of the bakery which resided in their new alley. The alley technically did not belong to them, but while staying in this city they considered it theirs.

She took a seat on the trunk and asked, "Could you teach me to sing?"

"Excuse me?"

"Could you teach me to sing?" she asked again, "Your voice is so lovely and everyone loves it and I just sound like a rusty old hinge."

Erik chuckled, "You do not sound like a rusty old hinge, Christine. You have a very nice tone, at least from what I have heard of you."

"I want to sing like you!" she exclaimed, "Then we could be a double act! The Masked Magician and his…his…his Swedish Soprano!"

The teenager smiled, "We cannot be sure that you are definitely a soprano, you are only ten."

"Almost eleven!"

"Almost eleven."

"I want to sing like you, Erik!"

"I will train your voice," Erik gave in, "but you will not sing like me."

"What? Why?" Christine pouted.

"Because you are Christine Daaé," he told her, "and I want you to sing like Christine Daaé."

"Okay," she sighed.

Erik glanced at the girl, "Is that a frown?"

Christine shook her head.

"I think it is."

"I think it isn't."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Well," Erik crept towards her, "Let me fix that for you!" He grabbed Christine's waist and began to tickle her.

"Stop!" she laughed hysterically, "Erik!"

"Then tell me that you want to sing like Christine Daaé!"

She squealed, "I want to sing like Christine Daaé!"

Erik stopped tickling her, "That's what I thought."

Christine then grabbed onto Erik's shoulders, jumping onto his back, "I got you now!"

"Oh, do you?

"Yes, I do!" she buried her face into his shoulder.

Erik sat her back down on the trunk, "Christine Daaé, you are the strangest girl."

Christine giggled, "And you are the strangest boy."

"Stranger than Raoul?"

"Just a little bit."

"Speaking of Raoul," said Erik, "where is he?"

"He went to attract customers," Christine answered, "When you started the last show he told me he was going to fetch a bigger crowd."

"The show was over an hour ago," Erik sounded worried, "Raoul knows he isn't supposed to go off on his own like that! Especially in an unfamiliar city like this!"

Erik stood up and took Christine's hand.

"Where are we going?"

"To find Raoul," Erik told her, "Soon it will be night and we must find him before."

* * *

"Do you know where you are going?" Nadir asked Raoul, "It's getting awful late and I haven't any time for nonsense."

"O-Of c-course!" Raoul stuttered, "I know exactly w-where I am!"

"You have been leading us to nowhere for over an hour," Nadir looked a bit worried. He saw some tears in the boy's eyes. This Raoul reminded him of his Reza, trying to act all brave when in reality he was frightened.

"We're set up in one of the alleys…n-near a bakery!" Raoul sniffled, "I promise you!"

"You seem very truthful," Nadir sighed, "But I am afraid we are indeed lost. We have been wandering the streets for over an-"

Nadir was cut off by the yell of a young man, _"Raoul! Raoul, answer me! Where are you?"_

In the shadows were two figures. They soon came into focus. A man in a dark cloak holding the hand of a little girl with curls like the sun.

Raoul's face lit it, he let go of Nadir's hand and ran towards the stranger and embraced it.

"_Who is that man, Raoul?"_ Nadir heard the voice asked, _"Has he hurt you?"_

Raoul brought the strangers to Nadir, "He's been very kind, and he was looking for you."

The young man approached Nadir, "Raoul tells me that you are looking for me. Why? Who are you?"

"I would like to know your identity as well," said the Persian, "I am Nadir Khan, chief of police to the Shah of Persia."

"I have done nothing to go against the law!" the cloaked man was defensive.

Nadir chuckled, "Are you the one that they call the Masked Magician?"

"Maybe I am."

"Well, I have had direct orders from the Shah to find the Masked Magician. You know, if you are him, tales of your tricks have spread around."

"I am not surprised," the man removed his cloak, revealing his face. Though, he did not really reveal his face. Over it was a scrappy piece of cloth being used as a mask, "I am the Masked Magician."

"Why is it you wear a mask?"

"A magician does not reveal his secret, now does he?"

"You sound very young," said Nadir, "How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"Why are there children with you?"

The masked man held Raoul's hand as well as the girl's hand, "I am their guardian. Why is it that you ask so many questions?"

"I am a very curious man," Nadir replied, "I have two more questions for you."

"Shoot."

"What is your name?"

"Erik."

"Erik what?"

"I prefer not to use a surname, Monsieur."

"Would you agree to accompanying me back to Persia and becoming the Shah's and the Khanum's entertainer?"

"No," was Erik's answer.

"No?" Nadir sounded shocked, "You are willing to throw away a chance at luxury?"

Erik sounded intrigued, "What sort of luxury?"

"Anything you desire."

Erik laughed coldly, "I highly doubt you could do that."

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you think I wear this mask, Monsieur?"

Nadir said nothing.

"I will not take it off, for I do not want to frighten you," said Erik, "but no one could ever fix what is behind this."

"You care for these children very much," Nadir told him, "Wouldn't you rather have them live in a life of luxury in a palace than on the filthy streets of France?"

The girl's eyes lit up, "Palace?"

"Yes, child," Nadir smiled, "A palace."

"Will there be warm beds and hot meals?" asked Raoul.

"Every night."

Erik looked at the children. They appeared anxious as well as excited. Erik felt uneasy.

"I will agree to your terms if you promise me one thing," Erik told Nadir.

"What is it?"

"You must not separate us, the children and I."

"I will make sure the Shah takes note of that."

"Fine," Erik sounded reluctant, "I will entertain your little Shah. But first, I require some things."

"And what are they?"

"A new mask, porcelain would be nice. Oh, and a violin."

"Why a violin?" asked the Persian.

Erik nudged the little girl and smiled, "It is Christine's favorite instrument."

* * *

**A/N:** Like it? Love it? Hate it?

Leave a review and let me know! :)

Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Yay! New chapter!

This is the longest chapter I have written for this story. In this chapter Philippe is back and we have Erik and the kids arrive in Persia. There's also a bit of fluff at the end because Erik/Christine/Raoul!fluff is the best thing to write in the world.

I would like to thank the reviewers from the previous chapter: **Everyonedeserveslove, helikesitheymikey, PhantomFan01, Ailovec, StarCatcher1858, Phanatic01, Toriana, Angel's wings, Phantom Phan Phorever, newbornphanatic, megumisakura, and FantomPhan33 **

Also I would like to thank everyone who followed and favorited! You guys are great!

Here is the new chapter!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Phantom of the Opera

* * *

The young Comte knocked on the splintered door of what he had suspected to be Monsieur Daaé's bedroom. The housekeeper had let him in the cottage only moments ago, for he had told her who he was.

It had been a little over a year since he last saw the violinist. He had been absolutely heartbroken by the loss of his only child, just as how Philippe had been about Raoul. The two of them did not stop looking for the children, but they were not successful.

From what Philippe had heard, the man had become very sick. The Comte felt obligated to see the musician, for he had been there for Philippe when no one else was.

He knocked on the door again and waited for an answer.

A weak and raspy whisper was heard from inside the room, _"Come in."_

Philippe slowly pushed the door, it creaked and it squealed. He spoke very softly, "Monsieur Daaé?"

The man looked absolutely dreadful. He lay in his bed with his blanket up to his neck. His lips were dry and cracked, and his eyes looked so sunken in. He was so very pale, a ghostly white.

"Monsieur Daaé?"

"Who is there?" he spoke with his thick accent. He looked at the ceiling.

"It is I," Philippe told him, "Philippe de Chagny," he approached the man's bed, "I heard that you were not well."

Monsieur Daaé let out a feeble chuckle, "I have told you many times to call me Gustave, my boy. You cannot seem to get that through you head."

Philippe showed a small smile, "No, I cannot."

"How old are you now?" he asked, "My, you sound so grown up."

"Nineteen," Philippe answered, "It has only been a year, Monsieur."

"Gustave."

"Gustave," Philippe corrected himself, "I have searched all over the country, and I am so sorry. I have not been able to find Raoul or your daughter. I am afraid they might be-"

Monsieur Daaé cut off Philippe, "They are not dead, and they will soon be alright."

"And how is that?" asked the Comte.

"I shall soon send the Angel of Music to watch over my daughter, as I have promised her."

Philippe had always found Monsieur Daaé to be a bit loopy. What was the 'Angel of Music'? What on earth was he even talking about?

"What are you saying?" questioned Philippe.

"I am saying that I will be reunited with my Charlotta very soon," Monsieur Daaé was smiling, "Oh, my darling Charlotta…"

"Charlotta?"

"My beloved wife, we shall be together again at last," Monsieur Daaé said, "Together we can fill the heavens with beautiful music that even the angels would envy!"

Philippe's eyes were now wide, "No!" he protested, "No, you mustn't think like that! You will live, for it is not your time!"

"I am not well, as you can see," the musician sighed, "It is clear that I am dying."

"I will call for the best doctors…the best treatments…I will not just watch you die!" there were tears in the teenager's eyes, "I refuse to just watch you die."

"Then simply shut your eyes."

"I will not."

"Take my hand, my boy," Monsieur Daaé told Philippe.

Philippe nodded and place his hand in Monsieur Daaé's. It was so very cold.

"I will soon be able to send the Angel of Music to guide my daughter," he was smiling.

Philippe then asked, "Who is this strange angel?"

"Every great artist receives a visit from the Angel at least once in their life," Monsieur Daaé enlightened Philippe, "No one ever sees the Angel; but he is heard by those who are meant to hear him. He often comes when they least expect him, when they are sad and disheartened. Then their ears suddenly perceive celestial harmonies, a divine voice, which they remember all their lives!"

The man was sweating and convulsing.

"Monsieur Daaé," Philippe sounded frightened, "I mean Gustave, you are shaking!"

Monsieur Daaé paid no attention and he continued preaching, "My Christine shall hear him soon. She will become very great and the world will know her. That is how she will be found, my boy."

This was complete nonsense, but Philippe said nothing. The man was delirious.

"I can hear her!" the man exclaimed.

"Hear who?"

"My Lotta," his eyes were teary, "Her voice is of the angels! I hear her calling!"

"No," Philippe shook his head, "You hear nothing, I swear to you."

Monsieur Daaé's eyelids grew heavy, "Philippe?"

"What is it, Monsieur?" he sounded alarmed.

"May I ask you a favor?"

"Of course, Monsieur, anything!" Philippe held his hand tight, trying to hold back tears.

"Stay until I am sleeping."

"Monsieur-"

"Can you promise me?"

"I promise."

"Thank you," he sighed, "It is very cold in here."

"There is a mountain of blankets upon you, you cannot possibly be cold."

"I am dying, remember?"

Philippe choked, "I will refuse to believe that, no matter what you tell me."

"You Frenchmen are a very stubborn bunch," Monsieur Daaé smirked, "And you have to be the most stubborn."

"My father always told me that," Philippe was crying, "He said I was worse than an old mule, and that I still am."

Monsieur Daaé started to cough.

"Do you need anything?" Philippe sounded worried, "Do you need water? I shall get you water! I shall get you anything you need!"

"No," he was choking, "I can get the housekeeper to get it for me."

"No, Monsieur, I insist."

"You are much worse than an old mule, my boy."

Philippe stood up and let go of Monsieur Daaé's hand, "I will be right back with your glass of water."

He approached the opened door and left the room. He walked down the narrow hall and into the small kitchen where he found a pitcher of water on the old wood table. He walked over to the cupboard and opened it, taking out a small cup. He went back over to the table and poured some water into the cup. After that, he started down the hall again, making his way back into the bedroom of Monsieur Daaé.

"Monsieur Daaé," said Philippe, "I have your water."

No answer.

"Monsieur Daaé?"

No answer.

Philippe dropped the cup of water, it splattered across the floor. He ran over to the bed.

There, Monsieur Daaé laid motionless. His eyes were wide open and he had a grin on his face.

"Monsiuer Daaé?"

No answer.

Philippe began to shake the man, "Monsieur Daaé! If this is a joke then it is not funny!" he was screaming, "Monsieur Daaé! Gustave! Please!"

There was nothing.

The scared Comte laid his head on the man's chest. He heard no heartbeat.

"No!" Philippe screamed, "No! No! No!" he pulled at his hair, "You can't do this to me! You can't!"

"Monsieur le Comte?" a soft feminine voice was heard. The housekeeper stood at the doorway.

"You can't leave me!" he hugged the dead man's chest, "You can't leave me! Please!"

"Monsieur le Comte," the housekeeper grabbed Philippe's shoulder, "I think it's time for you to leave. Your sisters must be-"

"I won't!" he snapped at her, "Madame, don't make me go!"

"Monsieur le Comte, I am very sorry," she told him, "But I find that it would be best for you if you did."

* * *

"Will I be able to wear lovely dresses?" Christine asked Nadir as they rode in the carriage, "Everyday?"

"Yes, child," Nadir smiled, "In any color you want."

Christine gasped, "Any color?"

"He said any color, Christine," Erik rolled his eyes. Christine and Raoul had been poking the Persian with their silly questions nonstop. Erik loved the children to death, but all of this was giving him a headache. He adjusted his new porcelain mask that Nadir had gotten for him, as promised. It started from the middle of his forehead and down to his upper lip, complete with a false nose.

"Does everyone in Persia wear those silly hats?" asked Raoul, who pointed to the short astrakhan cap on Nadir's head.

Nadir chuckled, "No, not everyone wears hats like this."

"He probably wears it to cover his bald spot," Erik whispered to Raoul, which made them both giggle.

"Erik," Nadir asked, "May I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"How did you three get in your situation…become a traveling act?"

"It is a very long story that I prefer not to tell or think about," Erik answered, "Can you respect my privacy?"

"I can," said Nadir.

Christine laid her head on Erik's arm, "Monsieur Khan?"

"Yes, Christine?"

"Do you have any children of your own?" the girl wondered.

"That I do," he replied, "A son a few years younger than yourself."

"Where is he?"

"At my home," he told her.

Raoul then asked, "What's his name?"

"Reza."

"Do you have a wife?" asked Christine, "Oh, I bet she's lovely!"

"She was," Nadir spoke softly, "She died in childbirth."

"I am sorry, Monsieur. I understand," she was quiet, "My mother died when I was six, I understand how you must feel."

"I am sorry about your mother, Christine."

"It's okay," she smiled. She lifted Erik's arm and put it over her, nestling her head on his chest.

Erik stroked the girl's back and kissed the top of her head. He then asked Nadir, "How much longer until we reach your Shah?"

"Not too long," Nadir answered, "Should be only an hour."

Raoul groaned, "An hour?"

Erik messed up the boy's hair, "Yes, an hour."

"Ack! Erik! My hair!" Raoul squealed.

"I like it better this way," Erik laughed, "Looks like you got out of a bar fight with barely a scratch."

Raoul crossed his arms and stuck out his tongue.

Erik did the same.

Christine giggled, "You two are such babies."

"Are we now, Mademoiselle?" Erik asked playfully.

"Yes," she poked his ribs, "You are."

Erik noticed Nadir stare at him and the children, "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," said Nadir, "You and these children have such a complex relationship. And you told me that you three are not related?"

Erik shook his head, "No relation whatsoever, but we are a family, isn't that right?"

The children both nodded.

"Christine is my angel and Raoul…he is my Raoul."

Raoul pouted, "You can't find an analogy for me?"

"Oh look at you with your extensive vocabulary," Erik teased, "There is no other word to describe you."

"Should I take that as a compliment?"

"You should."

* * *

Erik held the children's hands tightly as he followed Nadir into the palace of the Shah. Christine and Raoul were awestruck, while Erik was a bit unimpressed.

A man with a feathered cap approached the four. He wore a highly decorated uniform and had a dark mustache. He appeared to be in his thirties.

"Daroga!" he snapped, "Who are these Europeans?"

"I have brought you the Masked Magician, just as you had asked, Imperial Majesty," Nadir bowed.

"I am the Masked Magician," Erik piped, approaching the Shah, "Imperial Majesty."

"You are quite young," the Shah had his finger on his chin, "Much younger than I expected."

"I am nineteen."

The Shah tilted his head and glared at Christine and Raoul, "Who are these children? I did not ask you to bring along children, Daroga."

"Forgive me," Erik tried to play innocent, "They are my brother and sister, and I insisted your daroga that I bring them along. You see, our parents perished in a terrible accident, and I am their only guardian."

"I am a compassionate man," said the Shah, "I shall let them stay with you. I have heard many tales about your extraordinary talents, what is it that you can do?"

"Many things," Erik responded, "I have quite a knack for music. Also architecture, as well as some complex sleight of hand. I have trained with a master magician in my youth."

"Why is it you wear that mask?"

"Well," said Erik, hoping to get a laugh out of the Shah, "If I didn't wear it then I wouldn't be the Masked Magician now, would I?"

The Shah did not even crack a smile, "Very well. Send them up to their room, Daroga," he looked at Erik, "I expect you to be down here tomorrow at supper, in the dining hall. We are having a gala and you are perfect for entertainment. Just make sure to change out of those ratty garments."

Erik scoffed, "Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said, Magician, did you not?"

Erik clenched his fists, but Nadir pushed him back and mouthed, _"No."_

"I'll have a servant draw a bath in your room," the Shah started to walk away, "The daroga can show you around."

"Well, isn't he just a ball of sunshine?" Raoul muttered under his breath.

"Come Erik, children," Nadir said to them, "I will take you to your room."

* * *

"These sheets are so soft!" Christine buried her face into the blankets, "I feel like I'm on a cloud!" She slipped and slid in her silky pajamas, "Everything smells like roses!"

Erik giggled at the sight of the child. The silky pajamas felt very odd on his skin. His dark hair was still wet from his bath. He carefully took off his mask and laid it on the bedside table. The air felt nice on his face. It felt so good to have his mask off. He had to keep it on nonstop when they lived on the streets, in fear of someone seeing his face. He was very happy that the children did not mind his deformity, they never minded it.

Raoul then dove onto the bed. He rolled in the soft red blankets, "This bed is like heaven!"

"You two are so strange," Erik smiled.

"The strangest!" Christine exclaimed, wrapping herself in the blanket.

Raoul sat up, "Erik, feel the blankets!" he wagged the end of the blanket with his foot.

Erik fell back onto the bed. The children were right; Erik had never felt anything so soft.

The teenager let out a sigh, "This is the bed of the gods."

Christine and Raoul both burst into a fit of giggles.

"Tonight," Erik proclaimed, "We sleep like kings."

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep!" Christine exclaimed, "I'm not tired at all!"

"How are you not tired, Christine?" asked Raoul, "We spent the entire day traveling."

Christine shrugged, "I'm just not tired."

"I'm not tired either, Christine," said Erik, "And I'm the one that needs to sleep. I have to entertain at that pompous Shah's gala tomorrow evening," he sat up.

"What are you going to do?" wondered Raoul.

"Woo them with my violin," Erik grinned.

"Oh, I love it when you play the violin!" Christine beamed, "And when you sing along."

"Then I shall sing."

"You must have been visited by the Angel of Music, Erik," Christine stated, she laid her head on his chest.

Erik sounded confused, "Angel of Music?"

"Yes," said Christine, "He visits every great musician at least once in their lives."

"Maybe you are my Angel, Christine," Erik ran his skeletal fingers through her hair.

Raoul scooted next to Erik and laid down, "Does that make me your Raoul?"

Erik messed up the boy's hair, "Yes, you are my Raoul," he then said, "How about we try to go to sleep now, okay? I have to get ready for tomorrow and I do not want you two to be sleep deprived." Erik pulled the blanket over them.

"Fine," Christine groaned, "But I'm not tired."

"You will be," Erik kissed her forehead, he then turned and kissed Raoul's, "I love you two very much."

* * *

**A/N:** Like it? Love it? Hate it?

Leave a review and let me know! :D

Thanks for reading!

Stay tuned!


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Two updates in one week? I am on a roll!

I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I wrote the majority of this during my classes yesterday and today. I tried to extend the end more, but I found that I just couldn't. I also wanted to get this up because I have so much school work to complete ugh.

We have some adorable Erik/Christine/Raoul moments as always, a Nadir/Erik budding friendship, and some cute Raoul/Christine friendship.

I actually did research for this chapter. Props for me!

I would like to thank the reviewers of the previous chapter: **FantomPhan33, Phantom Phan Phorever, KfhDay, megumisakura, icanhearthedrums, newbornphanatic, Phanatic01, Ailovec, yapqin, PhantomFan01, and Angel's wings.**

Also, thank you to anyone who has favorited and followed! You guys are great!

Here is the latest installment!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Phantom of the Opera

* * *

"Hey!" Raoul deflected the grape that Christine threw at him, "You missed!"

Christine was still in her pajamas, as were the boys. She sat straddled on the carpet across from Raoul. The children were having a 'grape war' and Christine was winning. The girl popped a grape in her mouth and threw another at Raoul, it bounced off of his shoulder.

"Ten points for Daaé!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air, "Beat that, de Chagny!"

Erik stood at the mirror which hung next to the bed. He was combing back his dark hair. He rolled his eyes and smiled, "What on earth are you two doing?"

"Having a grape war," Raoul answered as he threw a grape at Christine, it hit her elbow, "Woo! I'm catching up, Christine!"

"I'm still winning!" Christine teased."

"I think those were meant for eating," Erik continued to comb his hair.

"We are eating them," Christine picked a grape up off of the carpet and popped it in her mouth, "See?"

Erik chuckled, "I see, my angel."

Raoul then asked, "When do you have to go and entertain?"

"We have a while," Erik answered setting down the comb, "It is only morning." He stretched up his arms, rolled back his shoulders and let out a yawn. He hadn't slept that well since…well, he could not remember ever sleeping that well. Even when he was a child his bed was not very comfortable.

"Erik!" Christine, "You must be my allied force to fight against the evil Raoul! Look at the wickedness in his eyes!" She pointed her finger at Raoul, who had just shoved an entire handful of grapes into his mouth.

"What?" the boy's mouth full of grapes, "That's not fair! That would make it two against one, and I'm losing anyways!" he turned to Erik, "Join my forces and we shall rule the carpet together, side by side!"

Erik could not help but laugh. The children were being absolutely ridiculous.

"I feel that the nation of Erik might have to turn to neutrality and isolationism, for it does not want to be dragged into this war," Erik told the two. He sat down on the carpet in between Christine and Raoul.

"Aw, you're no fun!" Christine whined, pegging another grape at Raoul.

"Boo!" Raoul flung a grape at Erik. It bounced off of his chest.

Erik took a handful of grapes out of the bowl and smirked, "Oh, it is on, de Chagny!"

"WAH!" Raoul tried ducking Erik's grape force by face planting onto the carpet. But it was no use, the grapes bounced off of the boy's back.

"Ha!" Erik grinned. He turned to Christine, "How many points did I get?"

And just before Christine could answer, there was a knock on the door.

Erik stood up and walked over to the bedside table. His mask was not there. He had put his mask there before he had gone to bed the night before. Where was his mask?

Erik sounded very alarmed, "Where is my mask?! I put it on the table last night!"

"It wasn't there when Raoul and I woke up," said Christine, "Maybe it fell on the floor."

Erik was crouched down. He looked under the table, "It's not there!"

There was now a new knock. It was harder and faster.

"I-I think we should answer the door," Raoul stuttered, "W-What if it's the Sh-Shah?"

"Why would the Shah come up to get me himself?" Erik was tearing up the bed, "I has servants to do that for him!"

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"ACK!" Erik stomped, "Where is it?!"

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"Here!" Christine hurled a pillow at Erik, "Just cover your face with this! I'll get the door!"

Erik dropped the pillow and just face planted onto the bed. Maybe the visitor would think he was sleeping.

Christine walked up to the door and turned the knob. Standing outside was Nadir Khan, he held a mask in each hand.

"Hello, Christine," Nadir smiled at the child.

"Hello, Monsieur Khan," she noticed the masks in his hands, "Erik, he has you mask!"

Erik's voice was muffled by the mattress, "Why does he have my mask?!"

"He has two masks, actually," said Raoul.

Nadir raised his eyebrows, "Why is he faced down on the bed?"

"He doesn't want you to see his face," Christine whispered.

Erik punched the bed with his fist, "Tell that Daroga to give me my mask!"

"He would like his mask," Christine spoke very sweetly, "Please."

"Of course," Nadir handed Christine the mask. Christine walked over to the bed and handed the mask to Erik.

Erik sat up, faced away from the Persian, and put on his mask. He then fell onto his back and groaned, "Why did you have my mask?"

"The Shah wanted you to wear a nicer mask tonight," Nadir explained, "A servant fetched it while you were asleep so they could get the right size."

"Did they?" Erik huffed, "Give it here."

Nadir sighed and handed the mask to Erik. It was absolutely gorgeous. It was a deep velvet red, which was embroidered with golden thread.

Erik said nothing about the mask as he casted it on the table, "Why are you here?" he asked, "Don't know have bandits to catch?"

"The Shah wanted me to show you around," was Nadir's answer, "And are you always this bitter?"

"Bitterness was thrust upon me at the tender age of eleven, my dear daroga," Erik grumbled, "And why you? You seem to be of important nobility, why not send one of his servants?"

"Well, the servants do not speak fluent French," said Nadir, who took a seat on the bed next to Erik, "And I happen to like you."

"No offense to you, Monsieur, but if you knew me then you wouldn't."

"I know you," Christine sat on the floor with her legs crossed, "And I like you very much."

"Well, that is different, my angel," Erik sighed.

"Believe me or not," Nadir stated, "but I am looking out for you. I care for you and these children. I do not want any of you to get hurt. The Shah is a powerful man and I suggest that you just follow my lead." Nadir then looked around the room, noticing the grapes all over the floor, "Why are there grapes all over the carpet?"

"Grape war," Raoul said from the corner of the room, "I must put aside my pride and surrender." He bowed at the foot of the bed, "Erik, you are a mighty solider. Much mightier than I and even that ruthless little Christine-HEY!" Raoul felt a grape hit the back of his head. He turned around to see Christine trying to hold in her laughter.

She mouthed, "I win."

Nadir couldn't help but smile at the children. "Why don't you two get dressed?" he suggested, "there are some fresh clothes for you in the washroom."

"Go on," Erik waved his hand, "I would like to talk to Monsieur Khan alone for a moment."

Christine nodded. She stood up, as did Raoul, and they both went into the washroom.

Erik looked at Nadir with a menacing glare; his fists were clenched, "What are your intentions, Persian? What is it that you want?"

"I would like to keep my job," Nadir responded, "And I would like it if you didn't address me as you do. The children have no problem with me, why do you?"

"You couldn't possibly understand," Erik huffed.

"Try me."

"As you can clearly see, I have trust issues," he whispered, "after being locked in a cage for six years of your life, one should. And you're…you're so different from everyone else…and that frightens me!"

"How exactly am I so different?"

"You are so soft spoken," Erik told him, "And you don't pry into my business…and the children absolutely adore you…and you treat me like a person."

"Because you are a person," Nadir spoke softly, "Why would you think that you are not?"

Erik laughed darkly, "You must have some sort of idea of what I hide behind this mask."

"I do have my theories-"

"I am a monster!" Erik cut him off, "A grotesque, repulsive monster!" he punched the bed, "Not even my own mother could love me!" He felt hot tears behind his mask.

"Those children…they do not think that."

"They are children," Erik grew cold, "They let their imaginations run wild, they can make everything into a game…they do not know any better," Erik paused for a moment, "But children, they grow up. They grow up to be vicious and violent adults. And I fear…I fear…" Erik could not even finish his sentence.

"I have only known you for a short amount of time," Nadir looked into the teenager's golden eyes, "but those children love you. Christine and Raoul, they love you so very much, much more than you know," he put his hand on Erik's, "Believe me."

Erik sniffed, "They are my entire world," he showed a small smile, "Christine wants me to train her voice. She is such a darling."

The two men heard the doorknob from the washroom turn. The door opened. Christine and walked out. She wore a lovely blue and gold Persian robe which closed at her neck and stopped just above her waist. After that came a skirt of the same color blue which fanned out a bit. Her hand went through the sleeve of Raoul's robe, which hung well over his hands. On his face he wore a goofy grin.

"These are so loose," Raoul swung his free arm back and forth, "I like it. It makes me feel freer."

Christine twirled, "I love this!" she looked at Nadir, "What are your plans for us today, Monsieur Khan?"

"The Shah wants me to take Erik to get fitted for an outfit for tonight," Nadir told her, "The gala is celebrating the Khanum's birthday. He wishes that everything goes off without a hitch," Nadir sighed, "She is not the easiest woman to please, believe you me," he stood up, "And after that the choice is yours, my dear girl."

* * *

"Ah!" Erik gasped as he felt the hands of servant women walk up his bare ribs, "Cold hands! Cold hands!"

One of the women spoke in a tongue that Erik could not understand. It appeared to make Nadir chuckle.

Erik glared at the daroga, "What did she say?"

"Nothing," Nadir smiled.

"How much longer?" Erik whined, "I am only skin and bones! There isn't much of me to measure."

"Patience, Erik," said Nadir, "Patience."

Christine sat in the corner of the room with Raoul. She pointed to a servant woman measuring Erik's waist, "Oh, her hair is so lovely! I wish I had hair like hers!" she turned to Raoul, "Could you put my hair into a braid like hers?"

"I can try," Raoul grinned, "Here, turn your back to me."

Christine turned around, no having her back to Raoul. Raoul had always been better at braiding than Christine. He was very quick with his fingers.

"I had a really odd dream last night," Raoul said as he placed one strand of hair over another."

"What was it about?"

"Well," Raoul began to explain, "You and I, we were on the rooftop of this beautiful building in Paris."

"Paris?" Christine interrupted, "I have never been to Paris. What is it like?"

"Well, I lived there for a period of time when my parents were alive," Raoul told her, "It's a lot like Lyon. Lots of hustle and bustle, but from what I remember…some of the buildings are absolutely magnificent."

"Ah," Christine let out a wistful sigh, "continue with your dream story."

"Well, it was night. Completely dark, actually. No stars or moon or anything! Just us…and you were weeping…and we were hiding…"

"What were we hiding from?"

"I don't exactly remember. It felt very frantic, you know?" Raoul paused, "It frightened me, Christine."

"It was only a dream, Raoul," Christine assured her friend, "Nothing to really be scared of."

"Of course," Raoul sounded a bit uneasy, "Do you have a ribbon?"

"Yeah," Christine handed the boy a red ribbon.

"Do you think the Shah will like Erik?"

"Of course," she answered, "Why wouldn't he?"

Raoul shrugged as he tied the ribbon, "He just doesn't seem…what's the word?" he thought for a moment, "He did not seem too thrilled when we arrived. I mean, Monsieur Khan told us that Erik was the person that the Shah specifically wanted. Why wasn't he happy? I sure would be happy if someone traveled for miles just to come and entertain me and the people at my stupid party."

"I don't know," Christine stroked her fingers down her braid, "Maybe he's just that kind of person. Some people cannot help being nasty, they are simply born that way."

"Well, I don't like him," Raoul crossed his arms, "I think he's too high up on his horse."

"It's best if you not let anyone hear you say that," Christine warned, "That could get us into trouble."

"It's not like the women in here can understand what we're saying," Raoul stated, "Monsieur Khan said that the servants did not speak French."

"Fluent French," Christine corrected, "They could be picking up bits and pieces."

"I doubt it."

The children heard laughter, "Hah! Not there! Please! I beg!" Erik was hysterical and apparently very ticklish, "Daroga, tell them to stop!"

"They are almost done," Nadir snorted at the spectacle.

And soon enough they were finished. Erik put his robe back on and stepped down off of the stool. He let out a sigh of relief, "Finally."

"What? Don't like strange women touching you?" teased Nadir.

Erik groaned, "Not particularly."

* * *

"You look very handsome, Erik," Christine beamed as Erik adjusted his new mask, "Oh, the Shah's mother will adore you!"

"Oh, I hope you're right, my angel," Erik slicked back his hair, "I do hope." He tilted his head, casting his eyes on Raoul, who laid on the bed with his feet up in the air, "Raoul?" he asked the boy, "Could you fetch me my violin?"

"Sure," he flopped his legs off of the bed and slid onto the floor to pick up the violin case. He grabbed it and handed it to Erik, "Here you are, oh mighty magician."

Erik flicked Raoul's shoulder, "A musician tonight, maybe with some ventriloquism. People seem to get a kick out of that."

* * *

Erik was absolutely right. The people did seem to get a kick out of that.

The party members applauded Erik as he played the final note on his violin. They all thought Erik to be a prodigy.

The Khanum, covered in jewels, clapped slowly. She eyed Erik and asked, "Where did you learn to play like that?"

"Self-taught, your grace," Erik bowed to the elderly woman.

"Magician, musician, what else can he do?" The Khanum smirked, she looked to the Shah, "Thank you, my son, for this lovely gala."

The Shah blushed, "The pleasure is all mine," he looked to Erik, "another."

Erik nodded. He started to play a well-known Mozart piece. He was growing very tired; he had been playing for hours. The crowd could not get enough of his music and they would not let him stop. The continued to stare at him in awe and demanded for more.

Even the servants stared at him with open mouths. For everyone though Erik a phenomenon.

* * *

The room finally emptied, leaving Erik alone with the servants, cleaning up. He was absolutely exhausted.

"You were…good," an unfamiliar voice said from behind him. It was a servant man. He was a bit rotund with a black busy mustache and a bald head, "Very good."

Erik turned around. Nadir had told him that the servants couldn't speak French. Who was this man?

"Thank you," Erik said softly as he closed his violin case, "How do you speak my tongue?"

The man let out a bellowed laugh, "My father…he was a…how do you say, traveling merchant?" His accent was as thick as his mustache, "My French is no good, but I have caught on when I was young."

Erik tried to grasp what he was saying.

"What is your name?" asked the servant, "I know it is not Masked Magician."

"Erik." he yawned, picking up his violin.

"I am Roshan," the servant showed a toothy grin, "Would you like to er…how do you say, unwind?"

Erik was confused, "What do you mean?"

"Follow me, Frenchman," the servant smirked, "You look like you could use a little fun."

* * *

**A/N: **Like it? Love it? Hate it?

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Stay tuned!


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Yay! Update!

This chapter is not as fluffy as past chapters. Fair warning. We vaguely find out what Erik was doing the night earlier. I had to do some research for this chapter. I also introduce a new character who will be involved for most of the Persia time. Erik doesn't know why he's sweaty.

And yay! We passed 100 reviews!

I would like to thank the previous chapter's reviewers: **PhantomFan33, yapqin, Phanatic01, ConfusedSocialChameleon, Toriana, PhantomFan01, Ailovec, chaz1997, Phantom Phan Phorever, newbornphanatic, and Saphireanime**

I would also like to thank the ones who favorited and followed!

Here is the latest installment!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Phantom of the Opera

* * *

Raoul had not slept at all that night. He had been waiting up for Erik, who had not returned after his performance. The child was pacing like a madman.

Christine, on the other hand, was wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and sound asleep. Raoul did not understand how his friend could just be sleeping at a time like this.

Where could Erik be? It had been hours. Raoul's heart was racing. He slumped down to the floor and dug his fingernails into the carpet. He felt hot tears on his cheeks. He held his breath and counted to ten in his head, but that did not seem to help.

He was violently sweating. He looked up to the ceiling and took in a deep breath. He needed Erik. He needed Erik to hold him and tell him that everything was going to be alright. To tell him that he was not mad. To tell him that he was perfectly normal, as he always did.

Raoul buried his face in his knees, wiping his tears on the silky Persian pajama pants. He tried to cry silently, he did not want to wake Christine, but that did not work. Christine slowly sat up in bed and stretched up her arms. She noticed Raoul.

"Raoul?" her voice was delicate, as it always is, "Raoul?" She got off of the bed and rushed over to the boy, "What is the matter?"

Raoul lifted his head. His face was red and puffy. Snot dripped from his nose. He was hyperventilating.

"Raoul," Christine poked his shoulder with her index finger, "Please speak."

"Erik s-still h-hasn't re-returned," he was shaking, "He s-said he w-would, b-but he isn't. I-I am v-very frightened, Christine."

Christine stroked Raoul's back with her gentle hands, "There is no need to be frightened."

"Yes there is," Raoul dug his fingernails into his own arm, breaking the skin, "What if the Shah didn't like him? What if he hurt Erik?"

"He didn't hurt Erik-"

"How do you know!?" Raoul snapped at her, "He could be dead for all we know!"

"Raoul," Christine started to back away, "You're scaring me."

"Am I?" he cried, "Well I'm sorry, Christine! I am so very sorry! But as you can see, you're not the only one who is scared of me!" he ran his nails down his arms, scarring them. He was howling, he couldn't even bare to have Christine see him in this state. Lovely Christine, perfectly stable Christine.

"Who else could be scared of you?" Christine asked Raoul, "There is no one else here."

He looked into Christine's beautiful eyes, "I am."

"How-"

"I can't control this, Christine, you know that," he breathed heavily, "I'm destroying myself! I feel like my heart is going to leap out of me chest. It hurts to breathe, Christine. It hurts to speak! And I can't stop this, not on my own."

"You can!" Christine drew closer to the unstable boy, "You just need to breathe."

"I can't breathe, Christine," he cried, "I can't!"

"You can!"

"I can't!" there was anger in his eyes, as well as sadness.

"Raoul," Christine brushed the sandy brown strands out of the boy's face, "You are my best friend and I love you so much. You are strong, so very strong. You can overcome this.

"I can't, Christine. I can't!"

"Do you remember the beginning of the summer at the beach?" Christine spoke soothingly, "I dropped my scarf and it blew away, straight into the sea?" she ran her fingers through his hair, "I thought it was gone forever. I loved that scarf, my father had gotten it for me and I wore it everywhere. Then," Christine began to smile, "I saw some crazy boy, dressed in some very nice clothes, run into the sea to fetch my scarf. He was absolutely soaked to the skin and out of breath when he came up to me. And if that isn't brave, then I don't know what is."

"Y-You really think so?"

"Of course," she kissed the top of his head, "You were like a knight in those fairy tales that we read."

That made Raoul smile a bit, "But you are no damsel in distress, Christine. You always manage to save yourself."

The door slowly opened. The children could hear laughter. It was Erik. His robe was open and hung off of his shoulders. His hair was an absolute disaster. He had this odd odor, which smelled sickeningly sweet. He stumbled as he walked and crashed onto the bed. He gripped the blankets tightly and sighed, "Lord above, I want to take these blankets as my wife."

Raoul stood up and yelled, "Erik! Where were you? You had us worried sick!"

Erik didn't respond, all he did was rub his face against the blankets.

"Answer me!" Raoul cried. He approached the bed and yanked the blanket out from under the teenager.

Erik was now on the ground, lying on his back. He slipped his mask off of his face and started to cackle.

"What's wrong with him?" Christine asked Raoul.

"I-I d-don't know," Raoul stuttered.

Erik lifted his head and asked, "I can smell things so much better now! I want to sniff the world! Oh, it must smell amazing!"

Christine approached the teenager and asked, "Who are you and what have you done with our Erik?"

"_Your_ Erik?" he cackled, "Erik belongs to himself…no!" he gripped the blankets tightly, "Erik belongs to these blankets! Oh, you would like a wedding invitation, wouldn't you?" he then whispered, "It will be a private occasion."

Raoul sighed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. He took in a deep breath, "Do you think this is a joke?"

Erik grinned, "No joke! We are deeply in love!"

"He's finally lost it," Christine muttered to herself.

"Where were you!?" Raoul demanded, "Why won't you answer my questions!?"

"Oh, you are so pushy, de Chagny," Erik sighed, "And I was going to make you the godfather," he rubbed the blanket against his face.

Raoul stomped his foot, "Where were you!?"

"Oh, stop acting like such a loon!" Erik rolled his eyes, "Just stop for a moment and smell this beautiful room!"

Raoul felt his face grow hot again. He bit his lip and tried to hold back his tears.

Christine looked concerned, "Raoul?"

"Just let Erik marry those blankets," Raoul growled, "He'll probably make you his bridesmaid!" his fists were clenched. He could not believe what Erik just called him. That word, that one little word tore Raoul apart. He swallowed hard, "If you need me, I will be in the washroom. I have to wash my arms, if you hadn't noticed!"

* * *

"Ugh," Erik moaned as he slowly opened his eyes. He slowly sat up, "Christine? Raoul?"

He then heard Christine's voice, "Raoul, please come out! You're worrying me!"

Erik stood up and saw Christine sitting against the door of the washroom.

"Christine?" Erik approached the girl, "Why is Raoul in there?"

She had a bitter tone, "You should know!"

"What should I know?"

"Oh, don't you remember what you said to him last night?"

Erik sighed, "Christine, I can barely remember last night."

"Well," Christine crossed her arms, "Raoul was in one of his panic fits and you made everything a whole lot worse!"

"I did?" Erik could not remember anything about last night, except the servant man and those pipes…

"You called him a loon!" Christine snapped at him, "And I am furious with you!"

"I-I would never call him-"

"Well, you did," Christine cut him off, "And now he's locked himself in the washroom and will not come out and it has been hours and I am very scared!"

"Christine-"

"Don't talk to me! I am very mad at you!" she huffed, "You hurt Raoul and I am very mad and I do not think I have ever been this mad, but I am!"

"I should talk to him," Erik sighed.

"Yes you should," Christine nodded her head, "And maybe I will be less mad at you."

Erik knocked on the door, "Raoul, please let me in."

No answer.

"Raoul, I'm sorry. I did something last night, something very bad, it messed with my brain," but it felt absolutely amazing, "Please let me in."

No answer.

"Raoul," Erik knocked again, "If you do not let me in…I will…I will break down this door!"

No answer.

"Raoul, I swear to God…"

The door opened slightly. A weak voice spoke, "What is it that you want? Don't you have your stupid wedding to attend?"

"What are you even-never mind. Will you let me talk to you? Please?"

"Fine," the boy grumbled, letting Erik into the washroom.

Erik got a good look at Raoul. His skin was red and scratched absolutely raw. It made Erik let out a small gasp.

"Raoul, oh my god, Raoul," he kneeled down, "Your arms, you face. What have you done to yourself?"

"You weren't there," his voice was cold, "I needed you!"

"Raoul-"

"And then you came back!" Raoul snapped, "Acting like a man who has lost his marbles! Barely even acknowledging me or Christine!"

"I-"

"Is that what you really think of me?" there were tears in Raoul's eyes, "I'm just a spastic little loon, aren't I?"

"No, no, no," Erik shook his head, "Don't you ever say that."

"But I am," he sat down on the ground, "I am."

Erik crawled over to Raoul and rubbed his back, "No. You are not, Raoul," he kissed the boy's head, "You are a perfectly normal boy. Perfectly normal. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. I promise."

"I'm scared, Erik," Raoul whispered, "I am so scared of myself."

"Raoul-"

"Look at my arms! Look at my face!" Raoul rolled up his sleeves, "I did this to myself! Me! And it…it felt so good, Erik! So very good! And I couldn't stop! I couldn't stop!"

"You're absolutely chafed," Erik touched the boy's arm, "You even broke the skin."

"I couldn't help it."

"Raoul," Erik looked into the boy's eyes, "I love you so so much. You believe that, don't you?"

Raoul slowly nodded.

Erik held Raoul close and kissed his tender hands.

"I love you too, Erik."

* * *

"Stay with me, children," said Nadir, "It is very easy to get lost in this city."

The Shah, so pleased with Erik's performance the night before that he wished for Nadir to show him his magnificent city.

Christine and Raoul were both wide-eyed and open mouthed. The city was absolutely glorious. The streets were lined with fantastic buildings. Various shops lined the streets, ranging from selling beautiful clothing to useless knick-knacks.

People would stare at Erik, Christine, and Raoul as they walked along. They stuck out like sore thumbs. Though, no one bothered them.

Nadir stopped in front of a store. It was very small, but the architecture was very distinct. It looked very different compared to the buildings next to it, very foreign in comparison, and a bit familiar.

Nadir then told them, "Mind if I stop in here for a moment? You three could come along, if you would like."

The three followed the daroga into the shop. From what Erik could tell, it was definitely a bookstore of sorts.

Nadir approached a lovely young woman, she was shelving books. She had sleek raven hair, which was tied into a loose braid. Her eyes were a warm honey color and she had a single freckle on her chin. She said something to Nadir in a tongue that neither Erik nor the children could understand. It made Nadir laugh.

Christine was curious, "What did she say?"

"I was just telling him about this very odd customer we had yesterday," the woman spoke perfect French. She turned to Nadir, "Are you going to introduce us, Monsieur Khan?"

"Forgive me," Nadir smiled, "This is the Shah's new entertainer," he gestured to Erik, "and his lovely sister and brother," he turned to the three, "This is Thana Henri, her father owns this store."

"Henri?" Erik questioned, "That surname does not seem to fit you."

"Much like you, my father is a Frenchman," said Thana.

"I'm Christine!" Christine tried to catch Thana's attention, "That's Raoul and that's Erik! It is very nice to meet you."

Thana smiled sweetly, "It is very nice to meet you, Christine."

"You are very lovely," the girl told Thana, "I wish my hair was like yours."

"Well," Thana kneeled down to Christine, "I have always wanted blonde curls."

Raoul, still not over the subjects prior to the day trip, tried to smile, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle."

"And it is a pleasure to meet you, young Monsieur," she looked to Erik, "And you are the mysterious Masked Magician?"

"That I am."

"Children," nadir looked to the two youngest, "Would you mind helping me look for a good book for my son?"

Christine grinned and took Nadir's hand, as well as Raoul's. The three walked to a shelf on the opposite side of the room.

Erik could not help but stare at Thana. She was very beautiful. He let out a sigh as she wiped the sweat off of her brow.

"Why are you looking at me like I have three heads?" Thana snapped her fingers in front of his face, "Hello?"

Erik came back to Earth, "I'm sorry," he quickly tried to think of something to say. His palms were sweaty. Why were his palms sweaty? What was going on with him, "Your French is very good, Mademoiselle Henri."

"Call me Thana," she said, "And my father is a Frenchman, as I mentioned."

"Forgive me if I pry," Erik said, "But you look like…well…"

Thana finished his sentence, "Persian?"

'Well, yes."

"My mother is."

"I am not too familiar with the customs here, but it sounds like-"

Thana finished his sentence again, "It would be a bit taboo? A Christian man and a Muslim woman? My father converted in order to marry my mother. He designed this building, you know. He's an architect, actually. Designed this store for my grandfather."

That's why it looked so out of place, "It is very impressive."

"It is, isn't it?" she smiled proudly. She blew a strand of hair out of her face and looked at Erik, "Forgive me if I pry, but what is with the mask? Well, I understand that you are the _Masked_ Magician, but do you always wear it?"

"It's…uh…it's sort of my trademark?" his stomach was doing somersaults. Erik hadn't a clue what was going on inside him? Why did he feel this way? He didn't know if he liked it.

"So what do you do?" asked Thana, "Pull rabbits out of hats? Saw beautiful women in half?"

"I'm more of a musician, actually," Erik told her. God, he could not take her eyes off of her. Why couldn't he take her eyes off of her?

"So your music is your magic?"

"Basically," he said, "I play a variety of instruments, as well as sing. I have been told my voice is absolutely haunting."

Thana raised her eyebrows, "Is it now?"

Erik wondered, "Do you sing?"

Thana busted into laughter, "Oh, you are funny!"

Erik was very confused, "What?"

"I cannot carry a tune in a bucket," Thana told him, "Believe me."

"Have you ever thought about training your voice? Anyone can learn to sing."

"Oh, you are a very funny man, Erik," Thana chuckled, "Very funny."

"You don't believe me, do you?" Erik huffed.

"No, I do not," Thana answered, "But I give you props for positive thinking."

"I am teaching Christine, you know," Erik told her, "Just one lesson we have had and she already is improving."

"Erik, you are very sweet," Thana shelved another book, "But I am more interested in other things. I adore music, but singing and myself, we do not mix. Trust me," she giggled, "I enjoy the arts, but a different aspect."

"And what might that be?"

"I blame my father for this, but I design. Simple little doodles, actually," she looked into Erik's eyes and sighed, "Nothing big. Nothing to fuss over."

"I too dabble in design," Erik told her, "But nothing extravagant. Architecture intrigues me." Thana intrigued him.

"Really?"

"I'd love to see your sketches, if it's alright with you," Erik was blushing under his mask.

"Maybe another time, Masked Magician," Thana smiled with her tongue between her teeth. She reached onto the shelf and pulled down a book. She handed it to Erik.

"What's this?"

"A book."

"Well, I can see that."

"It's on Greek architecture, and it is in French, do not fret," she stated, "It's a fascinating read and I find it amazing how the ancients were able to build such complex structures without modern technology."

"I haven't any money on-"

Thana cut him off, "Consider it a loan. I would like it if you told me your opinions on it after you finish. You seem like an intellectual."

"I-I," Erik stuttered, "Of course! I'd love to!" He was drowning in his own nervous sweat.

"Great," Thana shelved another book, "You can drop by any time."

* * *

**A/N: **Like it? Love it? Hate it?

Leave a review and let me know :D

Thanks for reading!

Stay tuned!


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Sorry for the wait! I have had a hectic week. Finals are coming up and I've been busy busy busy!

Some of you do not like the introduction of Thana and that is perfectly okay. I enjoy writing her, but remember, she will not be in the entire story. She plays a role in the Persian chapters. And she's more of just a little crush, Erik is not madly in love with her, okay? Erik's intense love for a girl comes in during the Opera House parts, which won't be for a little while. I wonder who that girl could be?

We have some Raoul/Christine bff fluffiness because they are just best buds and I love them so much. Like omg Raoul, Christine just stop with your cute.

I would like to thank the reviewers of the previous chapter: **Angel's wings, Phantom Phan Phorever, newbornphanatic, Everyonedeserveslove, megumisakura, Phan3145, StarCatcher1858, Phanatic01, PhantomFan01, FantomPhan33, Crystal Twilight, yapqin, and Ailovec**

A big thanks to everyone who followed and favorited!

Here is the chapter!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Phantom of the Opera

* * *

_One Week Later_

"Christine," Raoul sighed as he threw a raisin in the girl's hair. She ignored him and appeared to be lost in her thoughts. Raoul threw another raisin, "You aren't even trying. Are you letting me win?"

"Hmm?" Christine snapped out of her daze, "What was that?"

"I thought we were having a raisin war, Christine," said Raoul, "But it's no fun winning if the enemy isn't fighting back, especially when she's acting all mopey."

Christine huffed, "I am not acting mopey!"

"Fine, whatever you call what you're doing," he then asked, "Is there something bothering you?"

"If I tell you," said she, "You'll think I'm silly."

"No I will not," he responded, "I swear to it.

Christine looked at the carpet, "I feel like Erik's ignoring us. He's never around anymore. He's always entertaining the Shah and his stupid court, or the Khanum needs him for who knows what, or he's at that bookstore," Christine groaned, "he's always at the bookstore. The only time we see him is at night, but he just goes to sleep. I miss him."

Raoul started to think, "He's required to be with the Shah and his mother, but he is always at that bookstore, and I think I may know why."

"Why?" asked Christine, "Tell me!"

"It's so obvious, Christine."

"What's obvious?"

"Erik," said the boy, "He fancies the shop girl!"

"Thana?" Christine raised her eyebrows, "How do you know this?"

"My elder sister would fall in love with a new boy every day. The signs are all there!"

"But Arielle is a girl, Raoul. Erik is a boy."

"Girls and boys," Raoul told her, "we're not that different, except for what we've got down there, of course. But we're all people. Our minds and hearts are similar, so we feel the same things," Raoul popped a raisin in his mouth, "and Erik is definitely feeling something for her. Why do you think he's always drawing those buildings? He wants to impress her!"

"You really think?"

"Absolutely."

Christine pouted, "Does that mean he'll spend less time with us?"

Raoul shrugged, "He should make time for us. He was our Erik first."

"Yeah," she then looked up at Raoul, "Do you…do you ever miss your family?"

"Of course," Raoul grew a bit quiet, "every day."

Raoul remembered when they tried to look for his family. The police blew them off, saying that he was just another one of those impostors looking for the reward. A reward? Raoul did not understand that. So they gave up. It was no use to them anyway, they were only children and no one cared. No one believed that he was a little boy who lost his family, just a money hungry urchin.

"I miss my daddy," said Christine, "I miss his stories and his scruffy face."

"I miss him too," Raoul looked down, "but we're a family, aren't we, Christine?"

Christine smiled, "Yeah, I guess we are," she poked the boy's chest, "and you're my best friend so that makes it even better."

"And you are mine," Raoul grinned, "and the most amazing girl in all of Persia," he poked her shoulder, "the prettiest too, as well as the strangest."

"You're stranger," she teased.

"You're probably right," he threw a raisin at Christine, "Your nation is going to have to pay so much for reparations if you don't fight back."

"Oh really?" Christine pegged a raisin at Raoul, which hit his chest. She whipped back her blonde curls, her beautiful blonde curls and grinned.

"Horror!" Raoul cried dramatically, falling backwards onto the carpet, "I am slain!"

"Victory is mine!" Christine cheered. She laughed hysterically and fell onto Raoul.

"Oh, I am gone!"

"Raoul!" Christine rolled the boy onto his stomach. She sat on his back and crossed her legs. She proudly puffed out her chest and crossed her legs.

"Christine," Raoul choked, "you're crushing my lungs."

Christine slid off of him, "Sorry!"

Raoul then put his arms around her stomach and pulled her down with him, "Sneak attack!"

"No fair!" she laughed.

"Yes fair!"

"All's fair in raisin war, Christine!"

Christine stuck out her tongue and shoved the boy, who continued to laugh along with her.

* * *

"These are astounding, Erik!" Thana sorted through the pile of sketches that Erik had laid out on the table, "You told me that you dabbled, but I guess I did not know the proper meaning of the word."

"They're just sketches," Erik was blushing under his mask, "Nothing to fuss over. Yours are better by far."

"Don't be so modest," Thana smiled, "These are amazing! I only wish I had talent like yours."

Erik's hands were clammy, "You are very talented," he lifted one of the sketches off of the table, "look at the detail of this!"

"That's yours, actually," Thana tugged at the paper. She took it and scanned it, "and it's absolutely gorgeous."

Erik sighed dreamily, "You're absolutely gorgeous."

Thana set down the paper and raised her eyebrows, "Huh?"

Erik was sweating like crazy. Did he just say that out loud? Oh, he was such a fool! He rubbed his fingers together, "I uh…yes it is! It is absolutely gorgeous! I am quite the artist…" he could feel his mask slipping from the sweat. He pushed it up a bit.

"Yeah," she took a seat next to Erik, "Where did you learn to do…well...design?"

"I guess I sort of taught myself," Erik told her, "I read a lot when I was a child, for my mother never let me out of the house. Books were my friends and I craved knowledge."

"How does your mother feel about you serving the Shah?" Thana asked.

Erik started laughing, "She would be furious! I, out in public!"

Thana was confused, "Alright?"

"Oh, you would understand if you knew her," said Erik, "You do not, luckily."

"You sound like you do not like her much."

"It's a bit complicated," Erik pushed up his mask, which continued to slip because of his excessive nervous perspiration. He noticed how Thana would pick at her neck and whistle a bit when she talked. It made his heart race and his stomach do somersaults.

"Afraid to reveal your secret identity?" Thana teased as she noticed Erik fix his mask, "Don't worry, I promise not to tell."

Erik chuckled, "If I showed you then I would have to kill you."

Thana raised her eyebrows and smirked, "Oh, really?"

"Maybe not go that far," Erik told her, "You would probably die of shock before I could get to you."

"And why is that, Masked Magician?"

"It is not a pleasant sight, believe me," he answered her, "I do not even like to look at it."

"I highly doubt that, but I will listen to you," Thana pushed back her hair, "Only because I think you're cute."

Erik gasped, "You think I'm-"

Thana cut him off, "You are quite adorable when you get all flustered, I must admit."

"I-I am not flustered!" Erik grew defensive.

"Your sopping shirt begs to differ," she giggled.

"You see…I uh…I have this problem where I excessively perspire and I just cannot control it."

"Mmhmm," she grinned. She looked to Erik and asked, "Could you teach me?"

"Teach you to what?" Erik was confused.

"Well, I was thinking about what you said yesterday, how anyone can learn to sing. I do not want to learn to sing, of course," she explained, "but I was wondering if you could help me with my designs. I would ask my father, but he is always so busy…and I envy your talent, Erik. I am absolutely green with envy. Which goes back to what you said about how anyone can learn something. I want to enhance my skill. I feel that you could definitely help me."

"I-I," he stammered, "I-I'd be honored."

"You are quite the gentleman."

That was when Erik remembered, "I am so sorry, but I must go!" he gathered all his sketches.

"Why so soon?"

"Christine," answered he, "I promised to give her a singing lesson…I've been putting it off," he sounded troubled.

"Go to her," Thana urged, "I don't mind. She is a sweet little girl whose big brother promised to train her voice. It would be a crime if you did not."

"Thank you," Erik stood up and pushed in his chair, "When can I see you again?"

"Whenever you may like," Thana stood up with him, "I shall be here shelving books, as I always am."

And out of nowhere, Thana planted a soft peck on Erik's cheek and smiled. She started to walk off to a distant shelf, "Farewell for now, Masked Magician."

"B-Bye," Erik was in a state of shock as he walked out of the shop. He could not wrap his mind around what just happened.

* * *

"Singing is not only about having a pretty voice, my angel," Erik told Christine, "A good singer does not only have the voice, but they also have the presence. If you cannot interpret the emotion then what is the point of singing at all? Watching paint dry would be much more amusing."

There was a knock at the door.

Christine groaned, "We just started!" she pouted and fell back on the bed, "What does that stupid Shah want now?"

"It may not even be the Shah."

Christine sighed, "It's always the Shah!"

Erik lifted his mask off of the bedside table and fixed it onto his face, "Two seconds, my angel. I promise."

Christine huffed, "Fine!"

Erik smile and headed to the door. He opened it. A servant woman held a slip of paper and handed it to Erik. Erik opened the paper, it was a note from the Khanum.

"The Khanum needs me," said Erik, looking to Christine, "Can we reschedule?"

"Ugh!" Christine moaned, "Fine!" She absolutely hated the idea of having to share Erik with others.

"That's my girl," he leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

* * *

"You wanted to see me, your grace?" Erik cautiously walked into the Khanum's chamber.

"Good evening, Magician," her voice was hoarse, "How is the luxury suiting you?"

"It is quite magnificent," Erik's voice was quiet, "Thank you so much for your generosity."

"Oh, do not thank me, Magician," the Khanum said, "thank my son. He is the one who cannot get enough of you. Yet, I am growing quite bored."

"Bored?" Erik sounded uneasy, "I assure you, I am anything but boring."

"I've heard many things about you," the Khanum's voice was dark, "If you care about you and those children of yours then I suggest you do as I say."

"What are you talking about?"

"I hear you are quite handy with a rope," the Khanum spoke, "and very quick with your hands…" she stood up and walked over to him. She placed her hand over his mask, "What is your secret, Magician? Why do you hide?"

Erik stepped away from the Khanum, "Please do not remove my mask. It is best for both of us."

"Is it really?" the Khanum took her hand away, "Very well. My son is a man of compassion, but I am not. And I feel that you are not fit to live in the luxury that you do. You are a mere servant."

"The Shah-"

"Do I look like the Shah to you?"

"No."

"If you want to continue to stay at your status, to ensure the safety of those children of yours, I suggest you do as I say."

Erik gritted his teeth, "What is it that you wish?"

She smiled deviously, "I need you to do me a small favor, nothing too large."

"And what would that be?"

The Khanum handed him a crumpled slip of paper.

* * *

**A/N:** Like it? Love it? Hate it?

Leave a review and let me know :D

Thanks for reading!

Stay tuned!


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **Update!

This chapter is short. I wanted to get it up. This week has been one of the most horrible weeks so my creative juices weren't flowing super creatively. I don't know if I'll be able to update as often with finals coming up, but I will try.

To answer Angel's wings's question: Thana is seventeen.

And dudes. As I have said: Thana will only be in the Persia chapters. Erik will have another love interest once we get to the Opera House chapters, but that will not be for a little while so please bear with me.

I would like to thank the reviewers of the previous chapter:** Reticent Travesty, Phantom Phan Phorever, Angel's wings, Crystal Twilight, newbornphanatic, Eponine Sparrow, Everyonedeserveslove, PhantomFan01, icanhearthedrums, MumblePhantomFox, Phan3145, Ailovec, Phanatic01, and FantomPhan33**

Thanks to everyone who favorited and followed.

Also, i wanted to let you guys know that it makes me really happy when you review. Like I come home from a horrible day at school (they always are horrible) and log onto my email and see a review...it just makes my day. So thanks :)

So here is the new chapter!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Phantom of the Opera

* * *

Thana sighed longingly as she collapsed onto her bed, her long hair spreading across the mattress. She stretched out her arms and let out a tired yawn. Her day was all she could think about. Erik was all she could think about.

Erik was so different…so very different. Different in a good way, though. He treated her with respect and did not mock her. That made Thana happy. They spoke as equals, not as man and woman. He did not view her in a lower position. Thana felt that she had finally found someone that would not laugh in her face when she opened her mouth. And Thana was happy.

The teenager reached her arm down to the ground and picked her leather-bound sketchbook off of the floor. She opened it and grabbed her pencil off of the bedside table. She started to sketch.

The thought of Erik made her heart race. She had only known him for a week. She barely even knew him at all. She wanted to know more.

Though, she certainly would not pry him with questions. That would be rude and invasive. She already saw how nervous he was when she asked him about his mask.

Thana sighed as she sketched. Why did he wear that mask? What sort of secret is he hiding? Why would someone need to hide their face from the world?

She set down her book and decided not to think about it, even though her curiosity continued to gnaw at her feet. It wasn't her place to ask, it wasn't her place to know.

Bu she wanted to know.

She desperately wanted an answer.

* * *

Nadir fell heavily onto his char and let out a groan. He finally put Reza to bed and he was exhausted. The little boy had awoken with a nightmare and could not be calmed, but somehow Nadir was able to calm him. Well, after two hours of attempts he succeeded.

As he was about to let out a sigh of relief he heard a knock on the door.

It was too early in the morning, who would be knocking on his door at this hour? It was still dark outside and the streets were practically deserted.

Part of Nadir wanted to answer the door, but the other part wanted to ignore it and just fall asleep in his chair. But then again, if someone was knocking on his door at this hour, then it must be important.

Nadir decided to get up out of his chair and head to the door. He slowly turned the doorknob, only to see a young man down on his knees with his face hidden in his hands. His hands were red, covered in dried blood. His clothing was torn and he was weeping.

The only word that Nadir spoke was, "Erik?"

"Don't look at me!" the teenager's voice was muffled, "Don't even look!"

Nadir then asked, "What is going on? Why are you here at this hour? Wait…how do you even know where I live?"

"It was a guess," Erik was choking on his tears.

Nadir knelt down, "Would you like to come inside?"

Erik took his hands off of his face, which was covered by his white porcelain mask, which was stained with blood.

"Aren't you going to question me?" he spoke darkly.

"Would you like me to?" the Persian asked.

Erik stood up, "I-I didn't know who else to turn to. I-I couldn't g-go back to the palace. I-I couldn't l-let Christine and Raoul see me like this."

"And why is this?" Nadir tried not to stare at the blood on the boy's hands.

"I-I did something horrible, absolutely horrible."

"Let me get you a wet rag to wipe yourself down with," said Nadir as he walked into his kitchen. He then asked, "Whose blood is that on your hands?"

"My own," Erik sniffed, "I swear to it."

Nadir walked back in with a rag and handed it to Erik, who started two wiped his hands.

"Would you like to sit?" Nadir gestured towards the chairs. He looked at the boy, seeing sadness and guilt in his eyes.

Erik slowly sat down in the chair next to Nadir. He managed to choke out, "I killed a man. The K-Khanum made me do it! She forced me…I gave in! She threatened Christine and Raoul, I had to follow through."

"The Khanum is a very wicked woman, Erik," Nadir was quiet, "And I know you would do anything to protect those children, if I was in your place I would've done the same."

"There are more," Erik whispered, "There are more on the list that she gave me. More that I must…that I must get rid of. I don't want to, I don't want to do this."

"Erik," Nadir sighed, "I, myself, have done many terrible things that I am not proud of. I-"

"I vowed to myself that I would never have to kill another man! I made myself a promise!" Erik cried, "I am now the Khanum's Angel of Death!"

"Erik-"

"There are many things that you do not know about me, things that you needn't know," Erik sounded grim, "This is not the first time I have killed and in my heart I know that it will not be the last."

Nadir raised his eyebrows, "You have killed another?"

"When I was seventeen," Erik explained, "I never told you how I ended up as a street performer, did I? Well, I was the main attraction at a gypsy fair. Not because of my talents, but because of what I hide behind this mask. And the children…they were prisoners of the gypsies. I took care of them and they took care of me. One night…one night," Erik choked, "My master, he was a horrible man. My reason was justified. He was going to defile my Christine, my precious little angel. And I killed him and we escaped. Though my reason was justified, I felt absolutely horrible. I had killed a man, I had taken one's life away. And today…today I had taken the life of someone that I did not even know. And when he fought back, when he pulled a knife on me, when he attempted to unmask me," Erik showed his cut up hands, "I finished him off."

"You know, Erik," Nadir's voice was soothing, "I do not judge you. Please do not think that I do. The man that you had killed earlier was obviously an enemy of the state. Why else would the Khanum want him dead?"

"He saw my face, you know," Erik sniffed, "that was why I was so easy to kill him. He was in a state of absolute shock and fear."

Nadir scoffed, "It honestly cannot be that horrible."

"What?"

"Your face," said Nadir, "I do not understand how anyone's face can be as horrible as you say yours is."

"You have absolutely no idea, my dear daroga," Erik put one hand on the side of his mask, "My face is the bane of my existence. It is why my mother loathed me. It is why I was locked in a cage for six years of my life. You cannot understand and you will never understand."

That was when Nadir spoke, "Then show me."

Erik was taken aback, "What did you just say?"

"Help me understand! Make me understand!" the Persian griped, "You say all these things, but you never give me a reason. I want to understand you, Erik. Let me understand you."

"You will never understand!" Erik snapped. He ripped off his mask in a rage. It was the most terrifying thing that Nadir had ever seen. It was like a skinless skull. His eyes were deep holes that led into an abyss of nothingness. Where his nose should have been was a dark hole. Nadir could see Erik's tears and he himself could feel tears on his own face.

Nadir was absolutely still. His eyes were wide. He could not speak. He could not scream.

Erik cried, "Is this what you wanted to see? Is it!?"

Nadir could not make a sound.

"I could kill you right now and you probably would not be able to stop me," Erik growled softly, "But I will not, dear daroga. You are not on my list."

Then and there, Nadir let out a deep breath and welcomed Erik into a surprising embrace. He stroked the boy's back.

Now, it was Erik who was in a state of shock, though he held Nadir tight, "What are you doing?"

"Your face may be foul, my boy," Nadir ran his finger up and down Erik's skeletal back, "But your heart isn't. And a good heart can overpower a grotesque appearance any day. Even if you have committed many wrong acts, you did it in order to protect the ones you love. Those children love you, they love you with all of their heart. You must go to them."

Erik sobbed into Nadir's shoulder, hugging him tightly, "You are such a strange man. Such a strange man, indeed. Why are you like this?"

"I just am," Nadir whispered as he ran his fingers through Erik's inky hair. He reminded Nadir of Reza. Erik, though a teenager, was vulnerable like a child. Erik was a child. He was only a boy who was faced with the consequences of adulthood. Erik needed someone. And now, Erik had someone. Erik had Nadir.

"Thank you, Nadir."

That was when Nadir cracked a small smile, "You called me by my name."

* * *

**A/N:** Like it? Love it? Hate it?

Leave a review and let me know :)

Thanks for reading!

Stay tuned!


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** An update!

This chapter isn't that long. My creative juices aren't flowing too well because of finals stress. But hey, at least I wrote something! I really want to write the opera house chapters now, like you have no idea. I'm excited about those, I'm especially excited about writing Meg, Jammes, and Sorelli, but that will not be for a while, sadly. But we will eventually get there.

I would like to thank the reviewers of the previous chapter:** Phanatic01, Phantom Phan Phorever, icanhearthedrums, MumblePhantomFox, EponineSparrow, PhantomFan01, Everyonedeserveslove, Phan3145, megumisakura, StarCatcher1858, Angel's wings, FunkyBubble14. Toriana, and Ailovec**

And thank you to everyone who favorited and followed!

Here is the latest installment! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Phantom of the Opera.

* * *

Erik hung his lasso on the hook of his bedroom door. The rope was raw and was tearing. It had gotten much use in the past two weeks. Now, He was almost halfway down his list.

He thought that these acts would destroy him, but no, they made him feel… alive. He almost felt powerful. He was now the Angel of Death.

Erik removed the black scarf that hid his face and hung it over the lasso. The scarf was a bit trickier to deal with compared to his mask, but his assignments had a harder time pulling the scarf off, which made it convenience.

Erik, unlike one would suspect, never had his victims' blood on his hands. His own at times, yes, but usually never others'. For when Erik killed, he killed quickly, and that was that.

And the Khanum, well she was never completely satisfied.

Erik reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin purple pipe that he had stolen from his previous assignment. Along with the pipe was a minute pouch. And in that pouch was happiness. Ever since he had first tried it he had been drawn to it. Whenever he could get his hands on it he would use it. He just could not help himself. He needed more, and every time he killed he did indeed get more.

Erik approached the bed. He saw Christine and Raoul fast asleep. Christine's arm hung over Raoul's abdomen. Raoul's arm hung off of the bed and his legs were sprawled across the mattress.

Erik smiled at the sight of them. They were so innocent, so blissfully ignorant.

He made his way into the washroom. The Khanum had had several servants draw a hot bath for him.

Eric set down the pipe and took a match off of the vanity, which he set down next to the pipe. Erik removed his robe, letting it fall onto the floor. He untied his belt and pants fell next. He dipped his foot into the hot bath water. He picked up the match and the pipe, carefully not wetting it, and lit it. He took in its fumes and smiled.

He sat down in the water, letting it warm his cold skeletal body. He took a puff from the pipe. He felt his guilt wash away. He felt an amazing sense of euphoria. He felt absolutely fantastic.

Erik chuckled as he blew smoke into the air. He slowly sunk into the tub and shut his eyes.

* * *

Erik awoke to banging on the washroom door. Head was pounding and he felt a sense of nausea. He saw that his purple pipe had sunk to the bottom of the tub. He could barely remember the events of last night, his head hurt too much to think.

"Erik!" a voice yelled from outside, "You've been in there since forever! Can you hurry up?" It was Raoul.

Erik pulled the drain of the tub and stood up, grabbing a towel off of the rack. He stepped out of the tub and dried himself off. He grabbed the fresh robes off of the vanity.

"Almost done," he said through the door as he put on his clothing.

Erik opened the door to see Raoul sitting on the floor.

"Finally!" The boy gasped and ran into the washroom.

"Erik, are you alright?" It was Christine, "You look a little woozy and you are absolutely shriveled! How long were you in the bath?"

"I don't know, Christine," he face-planted onto the bed and dug his fingers into the blankets, "I am just tired, Christine. Do not worry for me."

"The servants brought up some tea," Christine held a red cup up to Erik's face, "Here!"

Erik took the cup and took a long slow sip, "Thank you."

"How long are you going to be here with us today?" asked Christine.

"I don't know, my angel," Erik sighed and took another sip of tea, "I'm very busy."

Christine pouted, "You're always so busy."

"Oh, now don't give me that face, Christine," Erik set down the cup.

"You're never here," said Christine, "you're always out while Raoul and I are stuck in here, forced to amuse ourselves with anything we can find. It's quite boring."

"I'm sorry, Christine, but you know that I must," Erik pushed back his hair, "Do you understand?"

"I do understand," Christine frowned, "But I miss you. I miss our games and I miss our lessons and I miss you singing me to sleep."

"When I am free, I promise that you will be my first priority."

"Even before Thana?"

Erik was confused, "What are you talking about?"

"Raoul and I know that you fancy her."

Erik crossed his arms and huffed, "I certainly do not! That is absolutely preposterous!"

Christine giggled, "Then why is your face red?"

"It just is!"

"It's because he looooooves her!" It was Raoul. He walked out of the washroom and wiped his hands on his pants, "Oh, you know it's true."

"Oh," the teenager scoffed, "It is certainly not true."

"Oh, it sure is," Raoul smirked.

"And how do you know all of this?"

"I was the youngest in the family of six," he spoke with a matter-of-fact like tone.

Erik rolled his eyes, "Well, I am not in love, so you can drop that subject."

"You think she is lovely, don't you?" asked Christine.

"I-she isn't too hard on the eyes."

Raoul took a seat next to Erik, "You probably write music about her."

"I do not."

"Then you probably think about writing music about her."

"I do not."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do."

Erik put his hand on his four head, "Raoul de Chagny, you are doing nothing for my nerves."

"Maybe Thana would do something for your nerves."

"Ugh," Erik fell backwards onto the bed, "You do not quit."

"Oh, Erik!" Christine squealed in excitement, "You should woo her with romance!"

"Not you, Christine…"

"You could stand outside her window and play the violin," Christine sighed longingly, "Oh, that would make me fall in love with anyone!"

"One, I am not in love with her," Erik put up one finger, "and two," he put up a second, "even if I was, which I'm not, she would never return my affection."

Raoul blew his sandy hair out of his eyes, "And why is that?"

Erik pointed both fingers to his face.

"Well, besides your face," said Christine, "anyone could fall in love with you. And you have your mask, so why worry?"

"Hypothetically speaking," Erik began, "What if she wanted to see my face? Then what?

"Then show her," Raoul stated, "If she doesn't mind then she is okay, if she screams in terror then she isn't worth anything."

"Oh!" Christine suggested, "You should sing to her! She would be all over you!" Christine attempted to do an impression, "Oh, Erik! Your voice is so majestic! Take my hand, I beg!"

Erik couldn't help but laugh, "You are absolutely ridiculous, my angel."

Raoul joined in, "Oh! You sing like the angels! Share each day with me, each night, each morning!"

"Oh, Erik," Christine clutched onto the teenager's arm, "Let's runaway together!"

"Off into the sunset!" Raoul waved his hands in the air.

"I do not know how I can live with you two ridiculous children," Erik groaned, but showed a small smile, "You both are ones for dramatics."

There was a knock at the door.

"Oh, who could it be?" Erik sighed. He turned to Raoul, "Fetch me my mask."

Raoul grabbed Erik's porcelain mask off of the bedside table and handed it to Erik.

"Thank You."

* * *

"You wanted to see me, Imperial Majesty?" Erik kneeled at the Shah's feet.

"Stand up, boy," the Shah motioned.

"Of course," Erik stood up.

"You said you were an architect, did you not?"

"I dabble," answered Erik, "Why do you ask?"

"All of my architects have proven me unsuccessful," the Shah explained, "They are lazy at best," he began to pace, "I want to build a new palace. A magnificent palace that would make anyone absolutely green with envy."

Erik was very curious, "What does this have to do with me?"

"Your skills in everything else prove very well," the Shah told him, "I would like you to be my new architect. You seem very promising."

"I…well…I," Erik couldn't get the right words out.

"Very good," said the Shah, "I would like your designs in two weeks if it is no trouble. And show no one your designs. I would not like your ideas to spread onto others."

"Two weeks? But that-"

The Shah cut him off, "And I will see you at my gala tomorrow with your violin at hand."

"Yes, Imperial Majesty, of course, but-"

"Good day to you, Magician."

* * *

"Look at you, Royal Architect!" Thana walked next to Erik along the city streets, "Did he even ask to look at any of your work?"

"No, surprisingly," Erik answered, "He just assumed."

"He could probably sense your talent," Thana joked, "You do give off that essence."

"What essence?"

Thana shrugged, "You just give it off. I guess since you are so talented at every other thing in existence he assumed that you must be an amazing architect, which you are."

"I am not that talented, Thana."

"Ha!" Thana snorted, "You probably exited the womb singing an aria!"

Erik sighed and smiled, "You are just being silly."

"I actually find my theory to be completely believable," said Thana, "and it probably is true."

"I'm pretty sure that I came out screaming like every other child."

"It was probably a melodious scream."

Erik was blushing under his mask.

"The Shah will probably fall in love with your design," Thana told him. Her skirt swung as she walked. Today her hair was not in its usual braid, so it whipped back and forth in the wind.

"I hope so."

Thana shivered, "It's a bit chilly," she rubbed her arms up and down with her hands.

Erik began to remove his coat. He placed it over Thana's shoulders, "You shall be cold no longer."

"You are quite the gentleman, Erik," Thana blushed, "but you are stick thin. I wouldn't want you to freeze."

Erik chuckled, "I'm used to the cold, do not fret."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Thana smiled warmly and clasped Erik's hand with her own. This made Erik jump a little bit. What was she doing? Why was she holding his hand? Was this good? Was this bad? It felt…it felt really nice.

Erik managed to say, "Y-You're hand is very soft."

"Why, thank you."

Did he just tell her that her hand was soft? Is that what he said? Oh, she was making Erik act like such a fool. Maybe Christine and Raoul were right. Maybe Erik did fancy her. Maybe this love thing was making him a fool.

* * *

**A/N:** Like it? Love it? Hate it?

Leave a review and let me know :)

Thanks for reading!

Stay tuned!


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** Yay! Update!

I wanted to update on Saturday, but the server was whack. Sunday was Tony night so yeah...can't miss Tony night. And I actually expanded this chapter a bit more today.

Also this chapter is kind of weird and I wrote a lot of it during work the other day and I'm sorry it took a while to upload. My school sort of has "finals month" and it really sucks, but I'm almost done with testing. And I will be able to upload more often because it will be summer because I do nothing in the summer.

Also, only a few more chapters until we're out of Persia. Like three or four I think.

I would like to thank the reviewers of the previous chapter:** FantomPhan33, Phanatic01, Bookwork741, Phan3145, MumblePhantomFox, PhantomFan01, Toriana, Phantom Phan Phorever, FunkyBubble14, Angel's wings, newbornphanatic, Ailovec, and icanhearthedrums**

I also would like to thank everyone who favorited and followed.

Alright, here is the chapter! I hope you all like it.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Phantom of the Opera

* * *

_Erik slowly turned onto his side. The bed was not as comfortable as it was the night before. He noticed that it was also smaller. He slowly opened his eyes. Christine was not on his left side. He turned his head and saw that Raoul wasn't on his right._

_Erik shot up. The curtains on the tiny window were a powder blue, not a blood red. He looked down, the carpet on the ground was replaced with old wooden floorboards. He held a blanket in his hands. It was not the silky blanket of the palace, but a green quilt. Where was he? Where were Christine and Raoul?_

_He stretched up his arms and let out a yawn. He pushed the blanket away and stepped off of the bed and onto the cold wood floor. He noticed that he was not in his silky Persian pajamas, but a long white nightshirt._

_"Christine?" Erik called out, but not too loudly, "Raoul?"_

_No answer._

_"This isn't funny, you two!" Eric searched around the room, "If you two don't answer me–"_

_He was cut off by voice. A chillingly familiar voice. It sent a shiver down his spine._

_"Erik?" the voice called from below him, "Who are you talking to?"_

_He froze in place. That voice… it couldn't be, it just couldn't be._

_He turned around and walked to a wooden dresser. He noticed that hanging above the dresser was a mirror. But the reflection in the mirror was not his, it couldn't be his. What he saw were warm honey eyes staring back at him. A smooth creamy complexion. A long and slightly hooked nose. Thin pinkish lips. And an absolute mess of inky black hair._

_Erik let out a scream of terror._

_"Erik?" the voice called, "Is everything alright?"_

_Eric was shaking, "Yes! Fine! Everything is fine!" He backed away from the mirror._

_This was not possible. He put his hands on his face, feeling the soft skin. He looked at his hands, they were long and slender, but not like the hands of death. He lifted up his nightshirt. He didn't look sickly, he looked healthy, absolutely healthy. This worried him._

_He let out another scream and fell back onto the floor. He felt hot tears stream down his cheeks. This could not be real. It was not possible._

_"Christine?" he cried, "Raoul?"_

_The door suddenly swung open. At the durables woman. Tall and slender and pale. Dark eyes and dark hair to match which was put up in a bun. She had a look of concern on her face._

_Erik then screamed again. It sounded even more frightening this time. He was face-to-face because mother._

_"Erik?" she rushed over to the teenager and kneeled down next to him, "Erik? What on earth is the matter?"_

_He was hyperventilating. Why was his mother here? What was going on?_

_"W-Where are Christine and Raoul?" he asked, "Where are they?"_

_"Christine and Raoul?" she sounded confused, "Are they friends from the Conservatory?"_

_"N-No," he sniffed, "they are children."_

_"There are no children here," She placed a kiss on his forehead, "Except I still consider you one, my dear."_

_Erik tensed up and bit his lip. His mother just did something that she vowed she would never do._

_"Now tell me," she spoke softly, "What is the matter?"_

_"I-I," he stuttered, "I'm not exactly sure. My reflection startled me. I'm silly."_

_"Are you sure," she asked, "that nothing is troubling you?"_

_"Positive," he let out a sigh._

_"Alright then," she stood up, "I suggest you put on some proper clothes and come downstairs. Mademoiselle Perrault and your uncle are here to see you."_

_"Of course," Erik stood up._

_His mother smiled and left the room._

_Erik lifted off his nightshirt and grabbed the white button-down, which hung off of the dresser, and slipped it on his arms. He put on his trousers and grabbed his waistcoat, buttoning it to the very top. He slid his slender feet into his shoes._

_Eric did not know what was real. Where were his precious children? Where they only a figment of his imagination? His face— was that one as well?_

_He slid his finger down his nose— he had a nose. Had he always had a nose?_

_Erik put his hand in his pocket and walked out of his room. His room. I room with nice fixtures and mirrors. Not the stuffy old attic like he remembered. A real proper bedroom, along with the real proper face. This was too surreal._

_As he walked down the stairs, he heard a booming voice come from the other room, "Tea, Madeleine? You know very well that I cannot simply drink tea."_

_"Yes you can. It is much too early for wine."_

_Erik slowly walked into the dining room. At the table set his mother, a man and a woman._

_"Look!" the man pointed and grinned at Erik, "It's the prodigy himself!"_

_"Oh, Erik," the woman sighed, "Has the Conservatory been good to you?"_

_"Uh…yes?" Erik sounded uneasy, "Very good," he held his head, "May I be excused for a moment? I think I need to clear my head."_

_"Of course," his mother nodded._

_"Thank you."_

_Erik somehow found himself at a door. He turned the knob and opened it. He saw fairgrounds. He stepped outside._

_Everything was so familiar. The sights. The sounds. The smells. All familiar. Tents and caravans were spread out everywhere._

_Erik noticed a brawny gypsy man standing in front of a scarlet tent. He felt like he knew him from somewhere, he just could not put his finger on it._

_Erik was about the walk into the tent until the gypsy man stopped him, "Where do you think you're going, pretty boy?"_

_Erik raised his eyebrows in confusion. Pretty boy?_

"_I just wanted to see what was going on in there. People are coming in by the dozens."_

"_That will be fifty centimes," he held out his hand to Erik._

"_Of course," Erik reached into his pocket and handed a gypsy man some coins. He walked into the tent. _

_He was now surrounded by the chortles and squeals of many children and adults alike._

"_What is this?" Erik asked himself aloud._

_A gangly boy with gaps in his grin answered Erik's question, "Only the most ungodly thing you could ever feast your eyes on!"_

_Erik felt nervous, "How ungodly?"_

"_These creatures are so hideous that you may actually vomit!" he stuck out his tongue to show his disgust, "They look like death and smell like it too!" He reached into his pocket and pulled out some stones. He handed a few to Erik._

"_What are these for?"_

"_You'll see," he smirked as he tossed a pebble up and down in his hand._

"_Ladies and gentleman!" a voice boomed. It was the familiar gypsy man, "Prepare to face your worst nightmare! Ones with weak stomachs, I suggest you shut your eyes!" he began to pull off a red tarp off of what Erik assumed to be a cage, "These are examples of the living death! Some even say that they are the spawn of Satan himself!" Now that the tarp was off, the gypsy man reached his arm into the cage. He pulled together two extremely bony arms with skin much like yellowed parchment. _

_Erik heard a whisper, "Please, master! Take me! Please don't let them hurt her!"_

_The gypsy man gritted his teeth, "Why take out only one when I can have both?"_

_And with a yank there were two hideous children on their knees. Erik caught a glimpse of their faces. What he saw in them was his face. His former face. _

_Erik let out a small gasp._

_Screams were heard._

"_Put those demons back in their cage!"_

"_Shield your eyes!"_

_The boy with the toothless grin caught the rock he was tossing. Without a second thought he pelted it at one of the children._

"_NO!" one of the children shrieked, blocking the other from the rock. It screamed as it hit its cheek._

"_Stop!" Erik suddenly had the urge to shout, "Stop it!" he made his way through the crowd and up to the children, "Can't you see that you're scaring them? That you're hurting them? Stop this madness!"_

_Erik looked deep into one of the children's eyes. That was when he realized._

* * *

Erik shot up. He was drenched in his own sweat and tears. He was back in the Persian room. It was all a dream. It was just a dream.

"Erik?" It was Raoul. He was sitting on the window sill, staring into the stars. It was still the dead of night.

Erik stumbled out of bed and walked towards the window, "Is it you, Raoul? Is it really you?"

"Of course it's me," said Raoul.

"Your face," Erik smiled. He kissed the boy's forehead, then both of his cheeks, "It's normal! It's beautiful!"

Raoul was confused, "Thank you?"

Erik turned and saw Christine lying on the bed, fast asleep.

"She's normal too," Erik whispered, "Perfectly normal and beautiful as she always is."

"Are you okay, Erik?" asked Raoul, "You're acting...well...strange."

Erik rushed over to the wall mirror to look at his own reflection. His sunken amber eyes. No nose. Thin lips. Sharp cheek bones. Wisps of hair. He let out a sigh of relief. It was only a dream.

"Erik?" the boy asked again, "You're worrying me."

"I'm fine," Erik answered, "Just had a bad dream, that's all. Why are you awake at this hour?"

"Couldn't sleep," Raoul sighed, "I was thinking about things."

Erik took a seat next to Raoul, "What kind of things?"

"All sorts of things," Raoul began to list, "the sky, the stars, myself…" he looked down, "Paris, my parents…"

"Is something bothering you, Raoul?"

"N-No," Raoul shook his head and tried to smile, "I'm fine. Absolutely fine. Nothing's wrong."

"Raoul?"

"Hey, there is obviously something wrong with _you. You're _the one who woke drowning in your own sweat."

"Maybe there is something bothering both of us then."

"Maybe you," Raoul crossed his arms, "but I am perfectly fine and there is nothing wrong with me."

"You are a horrible liar, Raoul de Chagny."

"I...ugh...FINE!" he groaned, "I keep…I keep having these thoughts," Raoul admitted, "about my parents, about my sisters, about my brother…and it hurts. It hurts me and it keeps me up at night."

"Raoul-"

"I shouldn't feel like this! I shouldn't!" he exclaimed, "I have you and I have Christine. I should be happy. You are loving and gentle and good and the best brother any boy could ever ask for, but I'm not happy. What if Philippe and Arielle and Emily have moved on from me, like when my parents died? What if I'm just a shadow of the past? They must have been able to move on without me. What if I am dead?"

"Raoul, you are very much alive."

"I don't mean it in a literal sense," said Raoul as he wiped his nose on his sleeve, "I mean that they consider me as dead. They think I'm dead. They may have had a funeral for me and I wouldn't even know. A small little headstone next to my parents' larger one. Though, inside the grave isn't my body. It's a collection of my things. My toys, my games, my books. They visit me every once in a while. On my birthday, probably. And then they get on with their lives. Arielle probably has a new suitor. Philippe is probably married by now, with a lovely wife and a lovely life. And they all think that I'm dead," he buried his face in his knees, "The de Chagny tragedy continues on!"

"Raoul-"

He looked up at Erik, "You must have had a family before me and Christine came along."

"I did," Erik spoke gravely, "I had a mother. My father died before I was born. I also had an uncle who came by every so often, he was tolerable," he looked away from Raoul, "My mother probably thinks that I am dead and there was probably no funeral. She probably threw a party. She absolutely hated me, but I didn't hate her. I could never hate her for some reason. Maybe it was because she was the one who bore me."

"Why did she hate you?" asked Raoul.

"She thought I was a monster," Erik laughed darkly, "my first scrap of clothing was a mask. She never wanted to look at my face. She made me think there was a monster in my mirror, when it was actually me. Scarred me for life on my fifth birthday. I think I may have been the worst thing that had ever happened to her."

"So what did you do?"

"I ran away when I was little bit younger than you," he explained, "I ran away and was captured by gypsies. I used to wonder if my mother ever cared if she thought I was dead. I wondered if anyone did, but then I stopped. I stopped because I knew that I was very much alive and there was nothing I could do about it," he sighed, "but it doesn't matter because my mother isn't my family anymore. You and Christine are."

"You're my family, too," Raoul sniffled. He then muttered under his breath, "but I miss my old one."

Erik did not hear the last part, "And I do apologize for being distant lately," he told the boy, "I've just been so busy with the Shah, and we're already starting construction on the new palace. And the Khanum is running me ragged with her requests. I'm so exhausted."

"I forgive you," Raoul tried to smile, "You do a lot to try and keep us happy, even when it doesn't work."

"What do you mean?"

"I am contented with this luxury, well not really. Christine is being driven to madness being stuck in this room. Everyday she plots escaping, but I know she is only teasing. It can be a bit nerve-wracking," he told him, "I think I may be developing a bit of claustrophobia."

"I'm not following."

"Christine and I have only left this room four times since we have arrived in Persia," Raoul explained, "Could you take us out sometime? Just the three of us? No Thana, no Monsieur Khan… just you, me and Christine?"

"The Shah won't need me tomorrow, and the Khanum won't need me until tomorrow night. How does tomorrow morning and afternoon sound?"

"Just the three of us?"

"Just the three of us."

"Good," Raoul cracked a small smile.

"Now get to bed," Erik picked Raoul up from under his arm and dragged him onto the bed, "It's late and I don't want you falling asleep in the middle of the day."

"You have to sleep too," said Raoul, "And no nightmares this time."

"I'll try to have pleasant dreams."

* * *

"Oh, Erik!" Christine beamed. She jumped and hung her arms on Erik's shoulders, "Is it really true? Are we really going to get the whole day with you? Get out of this stuffy room?"

Erik chuckled, "That's the plan, my angel."

Raoul sat on the bed and dangled his feet. He still did not feel quite right, but he was trying to keep it inside. He did not want to ruin the day, especially when he saw Christine act so happy. When Christine smiled it made Raoul smile.

"Did you hear that, Raoul?" she fell back to the ground and ran over to the bed. The grabbed the boy's hands and began to pull him into a dance, "We're free! We're free!"

"Now, was it really that bad?" asked Erik.

"Oh, it was horrifyingly boring!" Christine exclaimed, "Raoul and I ran out of games to make up and we just couldn't go on, could we Raoul?"

Raoul looked up; he had not been paying much attention, "Uh…yeah. We just couldn't. Terrifyingly boring indeed."

"Raoul?" Christine cocked her head like a puppy, "Are you feeling alright?"

Raoul pushed some of his hair out of his face, "Just tired, that's all," it wasn't quite a lie, Raoul was very tired, "Didn't get much sleep last night."

"Oh," said Christine, "I hope you aren't too tired."

Raoul showed a small smile, "Don't worry about me, Christine, today is going to be great."

There was a knock at the door.

"Ugh," Christine groaned, "Who could that be? Don't they know that it is our day?"

Erik grabbed his mask off of the bedside table and put it on. He walked over to the door and opened it. A servant stood outside with a letter in hand. She handed it to Erik.

"No," Erik moaned, "No, no, no, no, no!"

"What is it?" asked Christine.

"The Khanum needs me," Erik sighed and shoved the letter in his pocket. He grabbed the black scarf that always hung on the door, "I am so very sorry."

"No!" Christine stomped her foot, "You promised!"

"Christine," Erik knelt down to the girl's level, "I cannot just simply ignore the Khanum, and you know that."

She crossed her arms, "I thought _we_ came before the Khanum. I'm feeling a bit betrayed!"

"You do, of course you do," he spoke softly, "but I do this for you. Who knows what the Khanum would do if I defied her."

Christine crumbled and sat on the floor, "Then go! I don't even care. I didn't really want to do this today anyways."

"Don't be like this," Erik ran his bony fingers through her hair, "I will be back by evening, I promise."

"Go off to that old hag," Christine glared at the floor, "tell her that Christine says hello."

Erik looked at Raoul with pleading eyes. Raoul shot him a look back which said, _'I'll handle this. Go on.'_

"I'll be back by evening, you two," Erik told them as he left the room, "I promise."

"UGH!" Christine slammed her legs against the floor, "He just can't keep doing this!"

"You know he has to," Raoul told her, "he has no say."

"I hate that Khanum!" she clenched her fists, "I want to set her on fire!"

Raoul cringed at the last word of her sentence. _Fire. _He looked down at her from the bed, "No you don't."

"Yes I do, Raoul! I want to set this palace in flame! I hate that they take Erik from us!"

Raoul was shaking, "Please stop saying that. Christine, please." He was hearing their screams in his mind.

"Raoul?" Christine now looked concerned, "Are you alright?"

Raoul swallowed his tears, "Yes. Fine. Please don't worry for me."

She stood up, "I'm going to follow him."

Raoul raised his eyebrows, "What?"

"I'm going to follow him," she told him, "see what's so important. I am not going to spend another day stuck in this room. You can come if you want to."

"Christine, you can't."

She put her hands on her hips, "And why not?"

"Because we'll get in trouble!" he got off of the bed, "Erik will be furious!"

She smirked, "He will not be furious because he will not know," she grabbed the boy's hand, "Now come on! Are you a man or a baby?"

"Neither actually," Raoul sounded nervous, "sort of in-between. Just an awkward twelve year old."

Christine rolled her eyes, "Well then, are you an awkward twelve year old or a baby?"

"Christine, I just don't think this is a good idea."

She groaned, "Best friends are supposed to go on adventures together, not solo. Are you trying to break the best friend code?"

"No, of course not."

"Then come on!" she ran out of the bedroom with Raoul's hand in her's.

* * *

**A/N:** Like it? Love it? Hate it?

Leave a review and lit me know!:D

Thanks for reading!

Stay Tuned!


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **A new update! Fantastic!

This chapter is a bit darker than usual. Like much darker than the previous chapters. I also wrote a little oneshot called _Luck_ that I was hoping you all could take a peek at. It's Kay based and it revolves around Raoul and Charles. It would really mean a lot to me if you read it (and reviewing it would be nice too)!

I would like to thank the reviewers from the previous chapter as I always do:** icanhearthedrums, newbornphanatic, Phanatic01, Everyonedeserveslove, PhantomFan01, Toriana, FantomPhan33, megumisakura, Angel's wings, Phan3145, Eponine Sparrow, and Ailovec.**

And another big thank you to everyone who favorited and followed!

Let us continue with our story

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Phantom of the Opera

* * *

"Don't you children know that you will get into trouble if you wander off?" Christine and Raoul heard the voice of a woman. They turned around to see who it was. It was the Khanum.

"We were just," Christine squeezed Raoul's hand, "We were just looking for our room and we sort of well…"

"We got lost!" Raoul finished. He felt sweat drip down his face. The Khanum was a bit of a scary woman. Raoul noticed the look of evil in her eyes.

The Khanum was grinning, "I hope you have enjoyed the luxury."

"W-We have," Christine nodded.

"Good," she clasped her hands together, "because it will be going away for a very long time."

"What do you mean?" asked Christine.

"Your guardian has designed a gorgeous palace for my son," she told them, "and it would be such a pity if he went out and built another like it."

Raoul's heart was racing. What did this woman mean? She frightened him. He just wanted to run away, but he knew he couldn't. He knew that he had to be brave.

"What are you talking about?" asked Raoul, "Why would Erik go and design another palace? What would be his reason to?"

"Oh, I don't know," the Khanum walked her fingers up Raoul's arm, "but we want to make sure that it will not ever happen."

"What are you going to do to him?" Christine cried. Raoul could see the tears in her eyes.

"I was thinking either burning or the boats. Whichever is more fun."

Burning? Did the Khanum just say that? No, he could not let that happen to Erik. Not after what happened to his parents.

"Maybe Impalement…"

"You wicked woman!" Raoul screamed at her, "You horrid horrid bitch!"

"You will not speak to me that way, boy!" she snapped at him, "Do you and your little friend here care at all for your safety?"

"Then you must execute us along with him!" Christine snapped right back.

"I am going to need you two," said the Khanum, "to do the magician's dirty work once he is gone."

Raoul raised his eyebrows, "Dirty work?"

"Did you really think that all of this luxury we have been giving you was because of his entertainment?" she cackled, "He is my little angel of death."

"You're lying!" Christine screamed, "You're lying to us! Erik would never hurt or kill anyone! He would only-"

The Khanum finished her sentence, "Do it to protect you? Because that is what he has been doing."

"She's lying to us, Raoul!" Christine was in hysterics, "She's lying!"

Raoul fought hard to hold back his tears. He did not want to show the Khanum how weak he was.

"Now, children," the Khanum walked around him, "What on earth does he hide behind that mask of his?"

Raoul stomped his foot and exclaimed, "It's his face!" he felt hot tears stream down his cheeks, "Everyone is always so curious when it is only his face! Maybe he just doesn't want people as horrid as you to look at him! To judge him! He's different from us, but I see no difference!"

"Well, you two are just little spitfires, aren't you?" she clenched her teeth, "Daroga, take them to their new room," she walked towards the staircase, "and make sure that it fits their needs."

"Yes, Imperial Majesty." That voice. Christine and Raoul both knew that voice. Out of the shadows stepped Monsieur Khan. He had a look of sorrow upon his face.

"No!" Raoul hollered. He could feel one of his fits coming on, "We trusted you! We trusted you!"

"Children," Monsieur Khan held out his hand, "You must come with me."

"No!" Christine slapped his hand away, "You are just like that no good Khanum! Don't you touch me!"

"I am on your side, children," he spoke softly, "you must believe me. I will explain everything to you later, but you must come with me."

"Why would you help us?" asked Christine, "What convenience would this be to you?"

"I have already lost my son. There is nothing left for me to lose."

* * *

"I thought you lived at the palace," said Christine as she and Raoul followed Monsieur Khan into his home. It was very large, but not too large. It was much smaller than the seaside villa that Raoul had stayed in only a few summers ago.

"Oh no, my child," Nadir answered, "I have my own home."

Raoul was still shaken by the events prior. He could not speak. He just sat down on the carpet and hugged his knees. He was hyperventilating. He could not hold it in any longer, he just could not. He bit his bottom lip very hard and broke the skin, drawing blood.

"Raoul," Monsieur Khan looked concerned, "Is everything alright?"

Raoul put on an extremely fake grin, "Of course everything is alright!" blood from his lip dripped down his chin, "Everything is fine and dandy!"

"Raoul!" Christine snapped at him, "This is not the time for one of your fits!" she was still crying and still shocked, "We are in a crisis!"

Raoul stood up and snapped back, "Do you think that I don't know that?! Do you think that I enjoy this?! Do you?!"

"Erik is not here to calm you down right now!" Christine cried, "And do you know why? He is going to be executed! EXECUTED!" Christine dropped down to the floor, "We are going to lose the one who has watched over us, and loved us, and taken care of us. He has been our guide and our guardian…our angel. And we are going to lose him. And it is all my fault," she hid her face in her knees, "All of it is my fault."

Raoul wiped his tears on his sleeve, "It is not your fault, Christine. Please do not blame yourself."

"But it is," she sobbed into her friend's shoulder, "I convinced him. All I cared about was the luxury and the riches…"

"So did I," sighed Raoul, "It is my fault as well."

"Children," Monsieur Khan sat down on the ground with the children, "Please do not blame yourselves. Neither of you saw this coming."

"Why do you care for us so much?" Raoul sniffled, "Why?"

"I know what it is like to lose a loved one," there were tears in his eyes, "For my darling wife and now my son have been taken from me. I could not let you two lose Erik, for you are too young to go through this loss."

"We have both experienced loss before, Monsieur Khan," Christine put her hand on the Persian's knee, "My mother, both of Raoul's parents…and we understand. I just don't know what it would do to me, what it would due to Raoul especially…to lose another."

"Which is why I am going to help you," Nadir told them, "I am going to get you out of Persia, Erik too. I have arranged a carriage for you to take later this evening. It will take you to Istanbul, where you will board a train which will take you Munich, where you will take another which will take you to Rouen."

"Where is that?" asked Christine.

"Northern France," he answered, "I want to make sure that you are far from the wrath of that wicked woman."

"You are so generous to us," Raoul told the Persian, "We could cost you your job…your life!"

"I have nothing left to lose," he sighed, "I want you two and Erik to be out of harm's way. I must protect you."

"How will Erik know?" asked Christine, "We do not know where he is."

"He always stops here after his duties," said Monsieur Khan, "I promise you that he will come and you will all be safe."

* * *

Erik walked into the bookshop carrying his lasso and scarf in one hand and a bouquet of roses. He had stolen the roses from the home of his previous victims. He felt they were pretty, just like Thana was.

Thana was shelving books as she always was. The store was completely empty, except for her of course.

"Slow day?" asked Erik approached the girl.

Thana turned around; there was a large grin on her face, "Hello there, Erik."

"I-I uh," Erik was nervous, "I brought you these." He held out the flowers to her.

Thana beamed, "Oh, they're lovely!" She then noticed the lasso and scarf, "What are those?"

"Work things," Erik could feel his sweat, "For the Khanum. I just thought I would stop by to bring you the flowers. They were so beautiful and they…they reminded me of you."

Thana blushed, "You are very sweet," she walked her fingers up his shoulder, "do you think you could stay just for a little while? It is a really slow day and my father is not home. We could go upstairs if you would like."

Erik felt his heart race, "I-I…I would love that."

"Come on then," Thana took his hand, leading him up the stairs that led to the small apartment. He followed her into what appeared to be the living room. She sat down on a sofa and Erik sat next to her.

"Oh," Thana smiled, "I am so happy that I could kiss you!"

Erik was taken aback, "K-Kiss me?"

"Oh, yes!" she put her hands on his shoulders, "This is so exciting!" he could feel her hot breaths on his neck, "I have never known someone who intrigued me as much as you!" She put her lips on Erik's, which made his eyes go wide. He felt the slip of her tongue inside of his mouth and it…it felt absolutely amazing. He had never felt so alive. His eyes began to close as he embraced the kiss.

Thana released.

"That was amazing," Erik whispered, "Simply amazing."

"Was it really?" asked Thana, "I have never kissed anyone like that before."

"Neither have I," said Erik, "Could we…could we do it again?"

Thana giggled, "I was just about to ask that same thing."

Erik pulled in Thana for another passionate kiss. She smiled and bit his lip a tiny bit, but he did not mind. He absolutely loved it. He could not it enough of it. He could not get enough of her.

"Oh," Thana said in between kisses, "it would be so much easier without the mask, Erik."

"No," Erik moaned, "the mask stays on," he kissed up her neck, "It always stays on."

"Why do you wear it, Erik?"

"What if I told you that I was a monster?"

"You are no monster," she embraced him, "you are a gentleman." Thana had her fingers around the ends of his mask, "Let me take it off, Erik. I want to see your face."

"Thana, please," Erik did not even try to resist, he couldn't resist. And Thana, she pulled the mask right off of his face.

That was when she screamed. It was a scream so very terrifying. Erik saw tears stream down her cheeks. She backed away from him and fell off of the sofa.

"I told you not to remove it!" he snapped at her, "I told you not to take it off!" He covered his face with his hands.

"WHO ARE YOU?" she screamed in terror.

"It is Erik!" he groveled towards her, "It is Erik!"

"You are not Erik!" she cried, "You are a beast! A hideous beast!"

"Stop screaming!" Erik snapped at her, "Stop screaming at me!" He grabbed her ankle.

"Don't you touch me!" she kicked him away, "You loathsome gargoyle!"

"I thought you were different!" tears streamed down Erik's cheeks, "I thought you were different from the rest!"

"And I thought you were human!"

Erik picked up his lasso and held it tightly in his hands, "I am human! I am!"

"I can't believe I let you touch me!" she shrieked, "I can't believe it!"

"I am a man!" Erik snapped, "I am a man, I swear!"

"You are death!" she pushed him away, "You are the face of death!"

"I am the angel of death!" Erik bellowed, "And you are just like everyone else! Just like them!" That was when Erik grabbed Thana by the neck and pulled his lasso around her, "Your screams do not matter! For you hate me! You hate me!"

She was choking. Erik was choking her.

"I felt love for you!" Erik wailed, "But you hate me! Oh, you hate me!"

He dropped the rope and Thana fell to the ground. She was lifeless.

That was when he realized what he had done.

Erik fell to his knees, "No!" he sobbed, "No!" he pushed her arm, "Get up! Get up! Get up!"

He had killed her.

He was indeed what Thana said he was.

He was a monster.

* * *

**A/N:** Like it? Love it? Hate it?

Leave a review and let me know!

Thanks for reading! :)

Stay tuned!


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** An update!

This one is short. Very short. Sorry about the short.

I want to thank the reviewers, as I always do:** IamthePhantomoftheOpera, Trousers in Small Jars, Phantom Phan Phorever, Phangirl98, Phanatic01, Eponine Sparrow, Phan3145, Angel's wings, PhantomFan01, Everyonedeserveslove, FantomPhan33, icanhearthedrums, Ailovec, Toriana, and newbornphanatic**

Again, another big thank you to anyone who followed or favorited. Very appreciated.

Here is the latest installment!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Phantom of the Opera

* * *

Erik shrouded himself in his scarf and he ran. He ran as far as he could. He had his mask gripped in one hand and his lasso in the other.

What had he done? What had come over him?

Erik sunk into the dew soaked grass and hid his head in his knees. He was disgusted with himself. Absolutely disgusted. He had murdered her. He had taken his lasso and wrung it around her tiny neck, like she was one of his assignments, but she wasn't. This should not have happened. None of this should have happened.

Erik lifted his head and ran his fingers down his cheek. Was he really that grotesque that he could change one's feelings towards him with a single glimpse of his face? Was it truly that terrible? Had he been so used to the children not caring about his appearance that he actually thought that another would feel the same way? He was a fool in thinking that someone like her could look past a face like his. Thana was no child; she was not full of blissful ignorance like Christine and Raoul. He was hideous fool. Love was not meant for people like him. Not romantic love.

Would he ever be graced by the passionate kisses of a woman again? Would he ever feel soft and gentle lips against his own? Would he ever go through the sexual experiences that would come along with a romantic companionship? No one, not even the plainest woman, would even dare touch him. It seemed like an impossible dream.

Erik wiped his tears on his scarf and stood up. He saw his reflection in a filthy puddle. His yellowed skin, his sunken eyes, his disgusting and horrible face! He stomped on the puddle and splashed the water around. He couldn't dare to even look at himself.

"MONSTER!" He screamed at himself, "LOATHSOME BEAST!" He stomped on the puddle even harder, "Go back to hell! Go back to hell where you belong!"

No one would ever be able to see past his appearance. He was sure of it. He would forever be a monster. Not even his children, his precious children, would be his forever. Children grow older and they lose their innocence and their minds. They turn into single-minded and violent adults. They all do. Christine and Raoul would be no exception to this. Erik couldn't bear to think about the future.

* * *

"Oh, Erik!" Christine cried as she wrapped her arms around the teenager's waist, holding him in a tight hug, "I was so frightened!"

"Hush, my angel," Erik stroked her hair, "There is nothing for you to fear. I'm here. "

"The Khanum is a wicked woman!" she sobbed into his shirt, "She told us many things that were truly evil!"

Nadir had already explained to Erik about their situation when he entered earlier. He was surprised, as well as shocked. He had to do everything in his power to keep the children safe, even if it meant escaping.

Erik sounded a bit skeptical, "What did she say to you?"

A voice came from behind Christine, "She told us that you were her 'angel of death'." It was Raoul. He stood against the wall with tear-filled eyes and clenched fists, "I can only guess what she meant."

"W-What," stuttered Erik, "What do you think she meant?"

Raoul wiped his eyes on his sleeve, "That you were…you were her personal…killer."

"Oh, but that's not true!" Christine sobbed into Erik's chest, "Is it?"

"Of course it isn't, my angel," he kissed her blonde head and lied through his teeth, "The Khanum is an evil woman, she told you this to frighten you."

"I knew it was not true!" Christine smiled a little and turned to look at Raoul, "I told you!"

"I-I never doubted Erik," something seemed to be bothering Raoul, but Erik could not figure out what, "You would never lie to us, would you?"

"Of course not," another lie, "The only thing that passes my lips is the truth."

Raoul nodded, "Yes, of course," he could not look Erik in the eye, "I was being silly. Silly little Raoul, as always."

"The carriage is outside," said a voice. It was Nadir. He held a ratty bag in his hands. He approached the children and kissed them both on the forehead, "I will miss you two very much."

Christine grabbed Nadir's hands, "You must come with us! It mustn't be safe for you here!"

"I cannot, Christine," Nadir sighed, "I have a duty here."

"You are putting your life at risk for us," said Raoul, "The Khanum…she'll have your head!"

Nadir showed a small grin, "Not if I can help it."

Christine was misty eyed, "Will we ever see you again?"

"I would like to think that," said Nadir, "maybe in the near future our paths would cross again, but that is very unlikely."

Christine embraced the Persian in a tight hug, "I will miss you so much," she kissed his cheek, "Thank you."

Raoul nodded and smiled.

"Go on to the carriage, children," Nadir told them, "I must speak with Erik before we go our separate ways."

"Go on," Erik urged, "I will be with you momentarily."

Christine and Raoul exited the home.

"Erik," Nadir sighed as he walked towards the young man. He handed him the bag, "For you."

Erik was confused, "A nasty old sack?"

"Money," he pushed it towards him, "You are going to need it. It should cover all the expenses."

"No," Erik pushed it away, "I cannot accept this. You have done too much already."

"Please," he pushed again, "You must. If not for you, then for those children of yours."

"I-I," he stammered, "I don't know how I can ever repay you."

Nadir chuckled, "You can repay me by keeping those children safe and not getting yourself killed."

"I'll do my best," Erik shrugged. And without a thought, he wrapped Nadir in a tight hug, "Thank you. Thank you for everything."

* * *

That night, Raoul dreamed of fire.

He stared at Erik and Christine on the carriage bench across from him. Christine was fast asleep. She used Erik's stomach as a pillow. And, from what Raoul could see, Erik was also asleep.

Erik could have been burned. They could have set him to flame. The thought of it made Raoul sick. Even more love consumed by fire.

He could hear his mother's screams.

_"Julien! Julien! Get Raoul! Get him out!"_

He could feel strong hansd around his torso. He felt them gently slip away.

_"Julien!"_

He could hear her coughing and wheezing. He could see her crawling through the flame.

It was all too real. The memory burned like the flames from that night. His mother and father, their flesh being singed off in front of his very eyes. He envisioned Erik suffering the same fate. It frightened him. It truly terrified him.

Raoul wanted to cry out. He wanted to scream, but he didn't. He dug his fingernails into the bench, scraping off some of the wood.

He glanced at Erik and Christine. His arm around her tiny waist. Her head on his stomach. Giving their warmth to each other, like they always did.

Raoul wanted someone to comfort him during the night. He wanted someone to hold him close and tight. Erik would always do his best to comfort Raoul, but never like Christine. Raoul wasn't like Christine. She was Erik's perfect little angel, she could do no wrong. She was always first when it came to kisses and hugs, to comfort, to love.

Raoul wrapped his arms around his stomach. At least he could pretend that someone was holding him through the night.

* * *

**A/N: **Like it? Love it? Hate it?

Leave a review and let me know!

Thanks for reading! :)

Stay tuned!


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** Sorry for the wait...but here is an update!

I rewrote this chapter four times before I was finally satisfied with the outcome. Let me just say, the first draft was drastically different from this final copy that you are about to read.

I would like like to thank the reviewers of the previous chapter:** tabideer97, megumisakura, FantomPhan33, Crystal Twilight, Phantom Phan Phorever, Phanatic01, newbornphanatic, PhantomFan01, Eponine Sparrow, Phan3145, Toriana, Angel's wings, icanhearthedrums, and Ailovec**

Also, a big thanks to everyone who has faved and followed.

Without further ado, here is the latest installment!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Phantom of the Opera

* * *

Erik held both Christine's and Raoul's hands as the train came to a slow stop, "Careful," he warned, "watch your step."

Raoul shivered, "France is much colder than I remember."

"Well, it is December, Raoul," she pointed ahead of them, "Look! There is even snow on the ground!"

"It's quite packed there, isn't it?" Erik chuckled, "Hopefully it isn't the kind that will sink our feet in."

Christine took a step onto the snowy ground, "Oh, it smells like Christmastime!" Her feet sunk in, but only a tiny bit. She shivered.

"Christmastime has a smell?" Erik asked playfully, "Now, what would that be like?"

Christine watched as Erik and Raoul stepped off of the train.

"Well," said Christine, "There is no way to describe it, actually." She grinned. Her cheeks were very rosy from the cold.

"I hate to be a bother," Raoul tugged on Erik's sleeve, "but I think my stomach is digesting itself."

"Mine too," added Christine, "I am very hungry."

"I must admit that I feel a bit famished as well," Erik answered, "But we mustn't spend too much on food. We're going to need a place to spend the night, and inns are not always cheap. It's winter and I would like it if we spent the night near a nice warm fire."

Erik looked around the station. Everything looked vaguely familiar to him. He felt like he had been here before.

Christine looked up, "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Erik nodded, "Just an odd sense of déjà vu."

As the three walked, Erik began to notice the stares of others. He was used to it, of course. It would be odd for any normal person to see a masked man walking around. But the thing was, people made their efforts not to stare, making it even more obvious. He could see eyes quickly turn away as soon as he took notice. He had always been able to draw a crowd.

"I just wish I knew where we were going," Erik sighed.

"We'll find our way," Christine tried to be optimistic, "We always do."

Erik tried to smile. He glanced over at Raoul. He still did not know what was wrong with him. He had been acting very distant. This was not like Raoul, and it worried Erik.

"I-I think I may have been here before," stated Erik. The place was hauntingly familiar. The sights. The sounds. It began to strike a memory.

A chilly autumn night. Bustling crowds. Screaming whistles. Taking refuge under the small staircase which led up to the ticketing office. He knew exactly where he was.

"When?" asked Christine. She sounded very curious.

"Oh, it was years ago."

Erik then approached an elderly man. He was very plump and appeared to be very wealthy. He had a bushy white mustache that almost completely covered his mouth. He noticed that the buttons on the man's suit were about to burst. He must eat very well. He held a pocket watch in his hand and appeared to be checking the time.

"Excuse me, Monsieur?" Erik tapped the fat cat's shoulder.

The man shoved the watch back into his pocket, "Yes, what can I help you wi–uh!" Erik's mask seemed to startle him.

"Forgive my choice of facial accessories, but I was wondering if you would have any knowledge about how far Boscherville is from here?" Erik could not believe he was asking this, but he needed a place for the children to stay. She couldn't refuse beautiful and ordinary children, could she?

"It's about six miles west," said the man.

"Thank you very much, Monsieur."

"Yes, not a problem." The man turned away and continued on with his business.

"Boscherville?" Raoul asked, "Where's Boscherville?"

"According to that man," Erik pointed behind him, "about six miles west of here."

"Why Boscherville?" asked Christine, "What is Boscherville?"

"Small town," he listed off, "horrible people, angry mobs, religious fanatics…"

Raoul shivered, "Sounds quite frightening, if you asked me."

Erik shrugged, "It's where I grew up."

"Are we going there?" Christine clasped her hand back in Erik's.

"Yes," Erik nodded, "We are."

"Why?"

"There is a place there that I think we could stay at, just for a night or two," he told them. As much as Erik did not want to go back there they still needed a place to stay. It was winter and they barely had enough money left to afford one night at an inn.

"Fanatics and mobs?" Raoul sounded frightened, "We just left a dangerous place and you expect us to stay in another one?!"

"Don't worry so much," Erik nudged the boy's shoulder, "I am not going to be executed. I promise."

Erik really hoped that majority of the townspeople wouldn't remember him. The memory of being attacked still burned in his mind. He hoped that being the mindless people they were, had forgotten.

"Raoul," Christine smiled hopefully at him, "If Erik says that it is safe, then it must be safe." She looked up at Erik, "Where will we be staying?"

"My mother's house."

* * *

"Well, this is it." Erik told the children as he walked up to the front door of his childhood home. It looked almost exactly like he remembered. Much more paint was chipped off. He took his fingers and peeled off a strip of paint. He let out a sigh and wondered if he could really go through with this.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Raoul said to both Erik and Christine, "You told me that your mother hated you, Erik. What would make you think that she would agree to this?"

"Raoul!" Christine gave the boy a light smack on the arm, "We do not need this negativity right now."

Erik looked down at her and sighed, "No, Raoul is right. This whole idea was silly. I am sorry about the trek out here and-"

That was when Christine knocked on the door.

"Christine!" Erik chided, "What on earth are you doing?!"

"You and your mother obviously have some unresolved conflict," she knocked a second time, "and we need a place to stay."

"You think that knocking on a stranger's door will fix that?" asked Raoul.

"She's not a stranger, she's Erik's mother!" Christine huffed, "Why isn't anyone answering?" She knocked for a third time, but much harder.

Erik was shaking. He did not want to have to face her. He feared that she would throw them out into the snow.

"Maybe she isn't home," said Raoul, "Maybe she's out."

"Something isn't right." Erik muttered to himself. Something did not feel right.

Christine turned the doorknob and grinned, "It's unlocked!" She pushed the door open and walked right inside.

"Christine!" Raoul called, "You cannot just walk into other people's homes!"

"I don't think that anyone's home," she said from inside, "It is awfully quiet," she wrinkled her nose, "and rather dusty."

"My mother always kept the house spotless," Erik reluctantly walked inside, "She was never one for messes."

Raoul followed. He shivered, "It doesn't smell too nice in here, either."

Erik knelt down and wiped his finger across the floor, collecting dust. He wiped it on his trousers and stood up. Something was not right.

"Is there a fireplace in here?" asked Christine, "I am very cold."

Erik pointed his finger to the old brick fireplace which sat across the room, "Right over there."

"Oh," Christine giggled, "How silly of me. Do you know where the matches would be?"

"My mother kept them on the shelf above."

Erik heard Raoul whisper, "This place almost looks abandoned…"

Raoul was right. Nothing here looked like it had been touched in weeks…maybe even months. It sent a shiver down Erik's spine.

Christine reached for the matchbox and pulled out a single match. She struck it against the fireplace's bricks, and then threw it onto the firewood, setting it ablaze. She began to warm her hands.

"Do be careful," Raoul sounded nervous. He looked at the flames with wide eyes. He took a few steps back.

Christine put out her hand towards Raoul, "You need some defrosting. Don't fret, the fire is only going to warm us."

Raoul hesitantly took Christine's hand and sat next to her in front of the fire.

Christine turned her head to Erik, "So do you."

"I will be with you two in a moment," Erik responded, "I just want to have a little look around."

"Aren't you cold?"

"I can feel the fire from here," Erik tried to assure her, "Do not worry about me. I know my way around."

He walked out of the den and up the stairs. Everything felt so eerie.

"Madeleine?" he called out softly, thinking that she would be more likely to answer to her name, "Madeleine?"

There was no answer. Maybe Raoul was right. Maybe she was not home.

He tried once more, except this time he said, "Mama?" He sounded like a child, a lost little boy who needed his mother.

Erik came face to face with an old wooden ladder. It was the ladder that led up to his bedroom in the attic. He began to climb up it.

He was very surprised about what he saw when he reached the top. Nothing in his room had really changed since the day he ran away. Why did his mother keep it this way? He was sure that she would have changed it into something else by now.

Erik walked over to a small dresser, where he knew he had kept his clothing. He opened one drawer, the clothing was untouched. Exactly how he had left it.

His old music books sat atop covered in dust. The ventriloquism book that Mademoiselle Perrault had given him still lay open at page twenty-seven.

The paper birds he made when he was seven were still strung across the wall. He remembered being so proud of making those birds.

Erik took a seat on his bed. The mattress was still very lumpy. He picked up a toy dog that lay on his pillow. It was black and grey, but Erik remembered it being black and white. He remembered his Uncle Francois giving it to him for his fifth birthday. Uncle Francois had always been a bit more easygoing than his mother, though he was always quite awkward. Uncle Francois had dropped it by after the whole mirror fiasco and had brought it up to Erik's room, leaving it on the top ladder step for him to find.

Erik rubbed the toy against his face; it was just as soft as he remembered. He set it down and stood back up. Something on the shelf caught his eye. Erik took a step closer to see what it was. He held it in his hands. The old itchy material scratched his skin, just as it did long ago. He blew a bit of dust off of it. It was the mask his mother had made for him when he was five years old.

Erik shut his eyes and clenched his teeth. He was on the verge of tears. Angrily, he flung the mask against the wall. He remembered exactly why his mother made it…what she had said to him.

"_I made it magic to keep you safe. The mask is your friend, Erik."_

"The mask is magic," Erik whispered to himself as he picked the mask up from off of the floor. He ran his hand across the porcelain mask that he now wore, "You made it to keep me safe, Mama, didn't you?" he bit his lip, "But I am not safe."

"Erik!" he heard a voice. He quickly looked down to see Christine climbing up the ladder, with Raoul tagging behind.

"Christine…Raoul," Erik put down the other mask, "What are you doing up here? This room is far too cramped for the three of us."

"We were wondering what was taking you so long," Christine answered, "Isn't that right, Raoul?"

Raoul nodded. He then asked, "Was this your bedroom?"

Erik nodded.

"Ooh!" Christine pointed to the strands of birds, "These are so pretty! Did you make these?"

"I did."

Raoul picked a book off of his dresser, "Early Mesoamerican architecture?" he read aloud.

Erik swiped the book out of Raoul's hand and placed it back on the dresser, "A favorite of mine."

Christine went for the toy dog and grasped it in her hands, "He's so soft!"

"She," Erik corrected her, though he sounded quite silly, "She."

"Will we be staying here tonight?" asked Christine.

"I think we shall," Erik answered her, "We will sleep downstairs together in front of the fire. And we already have had something to eat, so that's good. I have some more bread from that market we stopped at. We can have that for our breakfast tomorrow."

"What about when your mother comes home?" asked Raoul, "What if she sees us asleep on her floor?"

"Don't you worry, Raoul," he put his skeletal hand on the boy's shoulder, "I will take care of everything. But for now…we all just need our rest."

* * *

**A/N: **Like it? Love it? Hate it?

Leave a review and let me know!

Thanks for reading! :)

Stay tuned!


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